Gemotions

The email sat in the inbox, a digital white flag of surrender. Amelia groaned, the sound a low rumble against the worn couch cushions. She’d been sprawled there since sunrise, the remote control a comforting extension of her hand. Her fingers traced the curves of the worn plastic as she considered the consequences. Or, rather, the complete absence of them, for the moment. No scholarship meant fewer pressures, fewer obligations. She felt a kind of heavy contentment settle in her chest, the weight of academic ambition momentarily lifted.

She finally reached for her phone. The screen’s glow illuminated her face. "Ugh," she mumbled, stretching her arms above her head. The sun was going down. Another day wasted, and yet…the thought made her smile, a slow, languid curve of her lips. She tapped the Netflix icon.