Gemotions

“This is a joke, right?” Marco asked, his voice tight, barely able to conceal the tremor of his jaw. He stared at the financial aid officer across the desk, a small, pinched woman whose face remained a mask of bland professionalism. He had spent hours in this office, compiling documents, filling out forms, answering questions. All for nothing, it seemed.

He leaned forward, his hands flat on the desk, knuckles white. He could feel a flush creeping up his neck. The officer’s polite, rehearsed explanations felt like a personal insult. He was already struggling, and now this. He straightened up, took a breath, and tried to speak calmly, but the words felt like they were being forced through a narrow passage. He had to keep it together. He *had* to.