Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows of the campus coffee shop. Amelia crumpled the rejection letter again, the paper crackling like a defiant fire. She slammed her fist on the table, rattling the half-empty latte. The barista, a skinny kid with too much nose ring, flinched. Amelia glared at him, daring him to say something. He wisely looked away, fiddling with the espresso machine. The words in the letter – "other candidates," "limited funds," – echoed in her head, mocking her ambition. She wouldn’t apply for any other scholarships. She’d figure something out on her own, a plan that didn’t involve begging for scraps.