Gemotions

The rejection email sat, unread, in her inbox. She’d seen the subject line – “Scholarship Application: Decision” – and her breath had hitched. Now, staring at the screen, the cursor blinked menacingly. Each tick felt like a judge’s gavel. She imagined her professors, all of them secretly whispering about her, their faces contorted with disapproval. It must be her. Of course it was.

She jumped at the sound of a notification. A text message. She swiped it open, heart pounding, expecting the worst. It was her best friend, asking if she wanted to grab coffee. “No,” she typed, her fingers trembling. “Can’t.” She immediately regretted it, suddenly terrified her friend would assume the worst, would know.

She paced her small dorm room, counting the tiles on the floor. Each step felt deliberate, a test. She kept imagining the scholarship committee members, smugly congratulating each other, their laughter echoing through her head. She knew she'd never get the money. Never. Every rejection letter was the same, a veiled message, a coded insult.