Gemotions

The email arrived on a Tuesday, subject line: “Scholarship Update.” Amelia, mid-lecture, barely registered the notification. Later, she’d been forced to read the words in the email aloud to a stern-faced administrator in a small, windowless office.

After, the afternoon sun felt harsh and unforgiving against her skin. She walked to the library, the familiar scent of old books failing to soothe her. As she navigated the stacks, she caught a glimpse of the offending email on her laptop screen. The words blurred, the cursor blinking, as if to deliberately taunt her.

She had to remind herself to breathe, her ribs tightening with each inhale. She didn't want to break the mouse, or throw the laptop, or scream. But she wanted to leave, right now.