Gemotions

The graduation ceremony felt like a trial. Sarah gripped the edge of her chair so hard her knuckles were white. Her college essay, "The Unsent Letter," was read aloud by the university president. Now, every graduate would know the story she'd held so close.

She focused on her breathing, trying to calm the rapid thrum of her pulse. The sun was hot, and the air was thick with humidity. She felt a tickle in her throat, a prelude to a cough. She resisted, not wanting to make a sound. She scanned the crowd, feeling like a specimen under the microscope.

The president cleared his throat and began reading. Sarah closed her eyes.