Gemotions

“They didn’t like it,” I mumbled, the words a bitter taste on my tongue. The rejection letter from the prestigious publishing house sat discarded on the counter. After three years of work and countless hours of writing, the response was a simple, “not for us.”

My stomach churned, and I felt a wave of nausea wash over me. I wanted to cry, to scream, to lash out. I felt a pressure in my chest. Instead, I just leaned against the counter, my head resting against the cool surface.

The familiar hum of the refrigerator seemed to taunt me, reminding me of the mundane realities of my life. My dreams seemed suddenly so far away, a distant, unattainable galaxy.