Gemotions

The letter crinkled in Amelia’s hand, the cheap paper practically screaming its falseness. She’d clawed at her throat the moment she’d ripped the envelope open, a primal reaction. The words blurred before her eyes, listing accomplishments, an acceptance, a sum of money. She knew none of those applied to her. Her stomach churned, a cold knot forming. She wanted to hurl the acceptance letter across the room.

She focused on her breathing, shallow and rapid. The stale air in her tiny dorm room felt thick, almost tangible. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to fight back the nausea that rose in her chest.

She went to the university’s financial aid office, a tight, controlled fury radiating from her. The administrator, a woman with a saccharine smile and overly coiffed hair, began to explain the "error," her voice a smooth, irritating balm. Amelia cut her off, her voice low and tight, each word clipped with a precision she didn't know she possessed.