Gemotions

A sharp pain throbbed behind Clara's eyes. She stared at the rejection email on her laptop screen, the words blurring. Her stomach clenched. The tiny, automated needle threader—her grandmother, a seamstress all her life, would have wept with joy—was now just a failed dream. She closed her eyes, imagining the celebratory phone call she'd planned to make to her mother. It felt like her throat was closing in on itself, making it hard to breathe. The apartment, usually a haven of creativity and warmth, suddenly seemed cold and sterile.