Gemotions

"No." The word left Clara's lips in a choked whisper. She crumpled the letter, the paper transforming into a tight ball. Her stomach twisted, a physical manifestation of the blow. The university, her future, was now out of reach.

She had rehearsed her acceptance speech in front of the mirror countless times, imagining her family's pride. Now, the thought of facing them filled her with a profound sense of self-consciousness. She would have to find a way to break the news, to make the disappointment a little less obvious.

She straightened the messy stack of papers on her desk, each task a distraction from her racing thoughts. She then found herself picking at a loose thread on her jeans, a constant, repetitive movement.