Gemotions

The afternoon sun, usually a welcome guest, felt harsh and unforgiving as it streamed through the window. The rejection letter lay open on his desk, its words a taunt. He had walked for hours, aimlessly wandering through the park, hoping to clear his head, but it was to no avail. The ache in his limbs persisted, a constant reminder of the effort he had expended.

He ran a hand through his hair, feeling the strands slick with sweat. He picked up his pen and stared at a blank sheet of paper, the cursor blinking accusingly on the screen. The inspiration, the passion, the drive – all were gone, replaced by a deep, pervasive weariness. He wanted to sleep. To sleep for a very long time. He wanted oblivion.