Gemotions

The rejection email sat, a digital serpent, coiled in his inbox. He clicked on it, his finger trembling slightly. A curt, impersonal message. No explanation, just a polite brush-off. He slammed his laptop shut, the sound echoing in his small, cluttered dorm room. Sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air, a scene that now seemed mocking in its cheerfulness. He wanted to shatter something, anything.

He paced. The worn carpet felt rough beneath his bare feet. Each step was a stomp, a protest against the injustice of it all. Didn't they understand what he'd sacrificed? Hours studying, volunteering, the constant financial strain weighing down his family. They had dismissed him as easily as they’d flicked a fly from a window.

He grabbed his worn textbooks, throwing them across the room. They scattered, their pages splaying open, revealing his frantic notes. Now his hard work was all for naught. A deep ache formed in his chest.