Gemotions

The pristine envelope, crisp and white, mocked Maria from her desk. She tore it open with a savagery that surprised even herself. The words blurred before her eyes, an unappetizing jumble of bureaucratic jargon. She felt a knot tighten in her chest, a physical manifestation of her mounting frustration.

She crumpled the letter in her fist, then slowly, deliberately, smoothed it out again. She wanted to rip it to shreds, to set it on fire, to erase its very existence. But she restrained herself, forced herself to breathe. The air in her small room felt thick, oppressive, like a stagnant pool.

The words “other applicants” seemed to leap out and hit her right in the face. Other applicants? What made them so special? She threw the letter onto the floor and spun around on her chair to face the window. The world outside seemed just as bleak as her future.