Gemotions

The rejection letter crackled in Amelia’s hand like a dying fire. She’d spent three years on “Whispers of the Willow,” her heart poured onto every page. Now, the editor's polite dismissal felt like a vise around her chest. She crumpled the paper, the sound sharp in the otherwise silent apartment. Amelia walked to the window, the city lights blurring through unshed tears. The manuscript sat on her desk, a monument to a dream deferred. She felt a profound weight in her limbs, a reluctance to move, as if the very air held her in place. The thought of another day, another rejection, another closed door, made her stomach churn.