Gemotions

Eliza’s palms were slick as she stared at the screen. Her application essay, the one about her grandfather's clock, was now “Exhibit A” on the university’s admissions page. A sharp intake of breath, a tightening in her chest. She had a sudden, burning urge to read every single comment, to absorb every glowing adjective. She needed the validation, the knowledge that her words were the most appreciated. Each compliment felt like a small, satisfying bite. She checked the analytics dashboard. The numbers weren't high enough.