Gemotions

The ramen in the Styrofoam bowl felt like lead in her stomach. Sarah stared at the flickering screen, the words of the university's financial aid office burning into her brain. The scholarship, the lifeline, the only thing keeping her afloat, was flagged. They needed more information. She swallowed hard, the lump in her throat refusing to disappear.

Her hands shook as she grabbed her phone, scrolling through the contacts. Her mother’s name. No. Her father? No. Calling them would be admitting defeat, exposing the reality she’d painstakingly concealed: the rent owed, the overdue bills, the empty refrigerator.

She slammed the phone down, the plastic case cracking under the force. The weight of it all, the crushing pressure of impending homelessness, made her want to scream. She sank back against the cold, hard wall of her tiny apartment, the silence amplifying the frantic hammering in her chest.