Gemotions

The silence of his apartment was deafening. He had always thrived on the clamor of his creative process, the whir of machinery, the scratching of pencils, the click of a keyboard. Now, everything was still. David stood motionless in the center of the room, the walls seeming to close in. The patent rejection letter lay open on his desk, the words a constant, mocking presence. He ran a hand over his tired eyes. He needed to be alone. He needed to be anywhere. He hated the feeling that permeated his very being.