Gemotions

He stared at the email, the words blurring before his eyes. "Not a good fit." The phrase echoed in his mind, a constant, irritating tap. He felt a profound sense of… something. He pushed the laptop shut with a harsh snap, the sound reverberating through the otherwise silent house.

He slammed his fist on the table, the action surprising him with its vehemence. He knew he'd put everything into that story. Every late night, every rewritten sentence, every ounce of his creative self. He felt like his purpose had been denied.

He didn't eat dinner that night, not even bothering to open the fridge. The empty plate on the table mocked him. He sat in the dark, staring out at the city lights, each one a tiny, insignificant speck in the vast expanse.