How Low Can She Stoop?

Imogene Scott

I wake up to the soft chime of my phone’s alarm, the early morning light filtering through the sheer curtains of my bedroom. For a moment, I lie still, trying to gather my thoughts together.

It’s another day. Another day to try my best to keep the bad thoughts away. Another day for me to remind myself that everything happens for a reason. It’s been two days. Two days since he’s left.

I roll on the bed for a few seconds before I finally get on my feet. I reach for my phone on the nightstand, my fingers brushing against the cool glass screen. As I sit up, I swipe through the notifications, mentally preparing myself for the usual flood of emails and messages.

But one subject line catches my eye, making my heart skip a beat. “Thank you for your submission.”

My pulse quickens as I open the email. It has to be about the ad campaign project I submitted. I never had any high hopes for it to begin with because Diane Johnson is the best of the best and there’s no way they would