Gemotions

She stared at the university administrator, Ms. Abernathy, her hands balled into fists under the desk. "There's been a mistake," Ms. Abernathy was saying, her voice a syrupy blend of apology and dismissal. As if. Elara’s palms began to sweat. The scholarship was her lifeline, the one thing keeping her from a minimum-wage job and a life on the streets. She leaned forward, the springs in her chair groaning under her weight. “I don’t think so,” Elara countered, her voice low and steady, each syllable a calculated pushback.