consciousness/training/amygdala_stories/stories/thrilled.txt

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She read the email standing up. Then read it again. Then called Marcus without sitting down, pacing the kitchen in a tight rectangle, the dog watching her from the doorway. "They took it. They took the paper. Editor's comments are — I can fix those in a week." Her voice was pitched half a step higher than normal and she couldn't seem to slow it down. Marcus was saying congratulations and she was already on the next thought, the next, the next — three years of rejections and then this, this, this, and she realized she'd been in a T-shirt and pajama pants and she wanted to put on real clothes for no reason at all except that it felt like the kind of day that deserved them.