Gemotions

The rejection letter felt heavy, a physical weight in her hands. She let it slide to the floor, the crisp paper crinkling as it landed. Her shoulders slumped, a familiar ache blooming between them. She hadn't bothered to get dressed, still in the oversized pyjama shirt she'd slept in. The apartment was dim, the blinds still drawn against the weak morning light. A half-eaten bowl of cereal sat congealing on the coffee table, a testament to her half-hearted attempts at a productive day. Her gaze drifted to the manuscript, bound in a plain black cover, lying abandoned on her desk.

The silence of the room pressed in, a suffocating blanket. She dragged herself towards the sofa, each step a monumental effort. The cushion gave way beneath her, swallowing her whole. She stared at the ceiling, the off-white paint blurring at the edges. A sigh escaped, a long, drawn-out exhalation. She closed her eyes, wishing, just for a moment, that the world would simply cease its relentless spinning.