Gemotions

A coldness crept up Maya’s spine as the Dean’s secretary called her into the office. The air conditioning was cranked up, the room glacial. She sat, hands clasped tightly in her lap, knuckles white. The Dean’s smile felt brittle, strained. He explained the error, the mix-up in paperwork, the intended recipient of the full tuition grant. The words were a muffled drone, barely registering. Maya’s vision tunneled. Her breath hitched. She felt disconnected, as though watching herself from a distance. A bead of sweat traced a cold path down her temple.