Gemotions

He’d driven aimlessly for hours, the radio a meaningless drone of noise. The rejection letter, crumpled and stained with coffee, lay discarded on the passenger seat. He couldn't shake the feeling of being exposed, vulnerable. His dream, his passion, had been publicly declared insufficient.

He pulled over to the side of a deserted road, the engine sputtering to a halt. He leaned his head against the steering wheel, the cool metal a small relief against his burning face. The landscape around him, once beautiful, now seemed bleak and desolate.

He clenched his fists, the muscles in his arms tensing. He fought the urge to smash the windshield, to do something, anything, to release the torrent of emotions threatening to consume him.