Gemotions

The coffee shop’s low hum usually soothed Amelia, but today it grated on her nerves. She flipped through the online magazine again, her jaw clenched. There it was: her college essay, “The Alchemy of Bad Pancakes,” presented as a shining example. She felt a prickling heat rise up her neck. This was supposed to be private, a snapshot of her awkward, teenage self. Now, strangers would judge her over her clumsy attempts at breakfast.

She slammed the laptop shut, the sound startling the barista. "Sorry," she muttered, grabbing her oversized tote bag. The strap dug into her shoulder, adding another tiny pressure to the already suffocating feeling. The air outside felt too bright, the sunlight too intrusive.