Gemotions

The email sat in the inbox, mocking her with its sterile font and polite phrasing. "We regret to inform you..." Right. They regretted it. She slammed the laptop shut, the metallic clang echoing in the otherwise silent apartment. The sunlight streaming through the window seemed to actively taunt her, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air like celebratory confetti. She kicked a discarded textbook across the room, the corner thudding hollowly against the wall. “They regretted it,” she muttered, the words dripping with a sourness that coated her tongue. The university, with its ivy-covered walls and self-proclaimed inclusivity, could choke on their “regret.”