Gemotions

He found himself tapping his pen against the thick wooden desk, the rhythmic click a frantic counterpoint to the quiet of the library. It was a habit he usually managed to curb, but the typed words on the page – the publisher’s regret – sent a tremor through him. He hadn't expected it to be so... blunt.

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to force the disappointment down. The blood pounded in his ears. He could feel it. He had poured his heart and soul into the manuscript. He glanced at the towering shelves of books, all successfully published. A wave of dizziness washed over him.

He cleared his throat and tried to focus on the book he had in front of him. But the words blurred, the letters dancing across the page. He slammed the book shut and stood abruptly. The chair screeched against the polished floor.