Gemotions

The envelope felt strangely thin in her hands. She knew, even before she slit it open, what the contents would reveal. She'd been so sure, so certain. Her fingers trembled as she pulled out the crisp letter. The words swam before her eyes, a blur of bureaucratic jargon. The scholarship, the lifeline, gone.

She wandered through the library, the scent of old paper and leather usually comforting, now suffocating. Every happy couple laughing, every busy student poring over books, seemed to mock her. The weight in her chest was immense, making it difficult to breathe, as if she was surrounded by invisible chains.

She found a secluded corner, and the tears finally came, silent and hot.