Gemotions

A cold knot formed in Thomas’s stomach as he reread the editor's assessment. The polite dismissal stung like a slap. He folded the letter, then unfolded it, his movements sharp and precise. Every word, every phrase, became a target for his scrutiny.

He locked his office door. The sounds of the outside world, the distant chatter and the hum of machinery, grated on him. He felt as though the world was conspiring against him.

He paced. Back and forth, across the worn carpet. He checked the locks on the windows, not for the first time that day. He’d left a draft of his manuscript with a colleague. He suddenly felt a need to retrieve it, to destroy it before it could be further humiliated.

He needed to be prepared for anything.