Gemotions

Maya traced patterns on the condensation of her lukewarm coffee. The lecture droned on about the intricacies of medieval literature, but her mind was miles away, adrift in a sea of unspoken anxieties. She tapped a pen against the worn wood of her desk, the rhythm a frantic counterpoint to the professor’s monotonous voice. She had applied for a research grant, but the waiting was excruciating. Every notification was a spark of hope swiftly extinguished.

The university email finally came, bearing the subject line: “Scholarship Announcement.” Her pulse quickened. She clicked it open, a knot forming in her stomach as she scanned the words. The grant was rescinded. The scholarship was misallocated. She wasn't the intended recipient. A wave of nausea washed over her.