Gemotions

The spreadsheet blurred before Amelia's eyes. Coffee, cold and forgotten, sat in a puddle on her desk. She kept clicking refresh, her fingers drumming a frantic rhythm against the cheap plastic. The website, her lifeline to the grant application process, was still loading. A bead of sweat traced a path down her temple. How could this be happening? Identical project proposals? It was a disaster, a complete and utter catastrophe.

The coffee cup wobbled precariously. Amelia snatched it up, the movement jerky. The grant was her last hope. Months of sleepless nights, sacrificing everything, boiled down to this one application. She clawed at her throat, as if the collar of her shirt had suddenly become impossibly tight.

The email pinged. A notification. She flinched, as if expecting a physical blow. Her competitor, David Chen, had been awarded the grant. David Chen, whose project was an eerie echo of her own. Her breath hitched. The screen's glare seemed to mock her.