Gemotions

A tremor ran through Marco’s hand as he held his phone. His breath hitched in his throat. He’d been working late at the library, surrounded by the quiet rustle of pages, and had finally found the courage to check his university's website. The title: “Inspirational Essays.” There it was, his painstakingly crafted story of his grandmother's bakery.

A sour taste filled his mouth. He felt the blood drain from his face, leaving him feeling hollow. The words he’d crafted with such care, the raw honesty he’d felt compelled to share, were now presented as a model, an example. He pictured other students reading it, analyzing it, dissecting it.

He imagined them pointing out the flaws, the clichés, the sentimentality. He clenched his jaw, his knuckles turning white. He thought of his grandmother, her face etched with hard-earned wrinkles. He had written the essay to honor her. Now, he felt like he’d betrayed her.