This is just something I threw together at work. I’m not sure where I’m gonna go with it, yet. Just threw it together and figured I’d put it out there.
Haven’t proofread or anything so please excuse any mistakes.
We always tell ourselves that it will be a rejection letter. We know better than to get our hopes up. But that does nothing to temper the disappointment when you peel back the top of that envelope and see that it, in fact, a rejection letter.
My mother was strong; she always recovered quickly.
“Oh well,” she’d say. “Knew that was coming, right kid?”
“Yep,” I’d respond with a shrug. I never hinted that I saw her falter, that I saw the air escape from her like she’d taken a hard blow to the midsection, that I saw her muscles dissolve and her skin droop lazily against her bones; I never let her know I saw her moment of weakness. And I always walked away before you could see mine.
“Next time, kiddo. They’ll pick us next time.”