Gemotions

The editor’s polite words, the carefully worded criticism, echoed in his mind, stinging with a hidden barb. He reread the rejection email, the polite phrases seeming to mock his efforts. The words blurred before his eyes, a physical manifestation of his internal turmoil.

He walked to the window, staring out at the rain-streaked city. The sky was the same color as the inside of his own head. He felt the familiar weight of disappointment, pressing down on his shoulders. He considered the long walk to his favorite coffee shop, but the thought of the effort involved made him shudder.

He slumped back into his chair, the leather creaking in protest. He had poured everything into this manuscript. Everything. And it was all worthless. The world was a relentless churn of expectations and disappointments, and he felt utterly lost in the relentless cycle.