Gemotions

The email sat in Amelia’s inbox, glowing with an unwelcome authority. Rejected. That was it, the sum total of her hopes, now distilled into a single, devastating word. She blinked, rereading the sentence. Her fingers tightened around her phone, knuckles whitening. The air in her small dorm room suddenly felt thick, heavy, as though the walls were closing in. Her carefully organized desk, a testament to her diligence, seemed to mock her with its silent, sterile perfection. She sat very still, staring at the screen, a strange hollowness echoing in her chest.

Amelia’s lower lip trembled. She pushed herself up from her chair, and began pacing the small space. Back and forth, back and forth, the worn rug doing little to quell the rising tension. The scent of her chamomile tea, which had filled the air a moment ago, now seemed diluted, insipid, and utterly useless. A cold sweat beaded on her forehead.

The rejection meant she couldn’t afford the books, or the bus fare to get to school. She would have to quit school and find a job, she thought. She hadn't even considered that outcome. It was a bleak prospect. Her dreams, once so bright and attainable, felt like they were slipping through her fingers.