Gemotions

“Well?” Maya snapped, her voice sharp enough to cut glass. She glared at the university official sitting across the table. The man, balding and bespectacled, was meticulously examining her essay, his lips pursed in a judgmental frown. The air in the room seemed to crackle with unspoken tension.

She tapped a fingernail on the polished mahogany. She’d already explained everything, offered all the evidence she had, and yet this delay stretched on, a cruel punishment. The silence was grating, each tick of the grandfather clock in the corner a mocking reminder of the passing time.

She wanted to scream, to lash out, but years of ingrained self-control kept her in check. She balled her fists under the table, the knuckles white. She had another class to attend, a life to get back to. This whole ordeal was infuriating.