Gemotions

The chipped mug warmed Elias’s hands, the ceramic a familiar comfort. He stared out the window of his tiny apartment, the city lights blurring in the rainy dusk. He remembered the sprawling fields of his childhood, the scent of hay, the feeling of the sun on his face. Now, staring at the acceptance letter, the news of the scholarship’s revocation landed like a physical blow. The head of financial aid’s office, stern and apologetic, had explained the clerical error, the mix-up in names. The weight of it pressed down, heavier than the rain against the glass. He ran a hand through his hair, the strands catching on the worn edges of his favorite book, a collection of local folk tales he used to read at bedtime.