Gemotions

The rejection email sat, a digital serpent, coiled at the bottom of her inbox. Maya clicked out of it, then immediately clicked back. Her leg bounced, a frantic drumbeat against the hardwood floor. The essay she'd poured over, the transcript she'd agonized over, all seemingly amounted to nothing. She felt a tickle in the back of her throat, and she swallowed hard. Her apartment felt too small, the air thick and heavy.

She grabbed her keys and bolted out the door, needing to be anywhere but there. The park, the library, even the cramped laundromat – anywhere was better than the suffocating silence of her apartment. She walked fast, her shoulders pulled tight, the pavement cold beneath her worn sneakers.

The crisp autumn air offered no solace, the falling leaves a mocking reminder of the future she'd envisioned.