Gemotions

Maya’s fingers drummed a frantic rhythm against the worn wooden table in the financial aid office. The air hung thick with the scent of old paper and stale coffee, a smell that usually comforted her, but today felt like a suffocating blanket. She kept rereading the email on her phone: "…a clerical error…scholarship awarded in error…funds will be reclaimed…" Her stomach twisted, a cold knot forming in its core. Her eyes darted around the room, taking in every detail – the flickering fluorescent lights, the bored receptionist chewing gum, the posters advertising student loans. Each detail seemed to amplify the impending doom.

The advisor finally called her name. Maya felt her throat constrict as she stood, her legs suddenly heavy and clumsy. The advisor’s voice, usually kind, now grated on her nerves. She stammered through her explanation, each word a struggle to get out, each sentence a clumsy attempt to keep her voice from cracking. She felt a profound sense of unease, a jitteriness that wouldn't let her settle.