Gemotions

The lump in Maya's throat threatened to choke her. She fiddled with the strap of her bag, the coarse material scraping against her palm, a tiny physical discomfort mirroring the larger one blossoming inside her. The registrar’s office felt cavernous, the fluorescent lights harsh and unforgiving. She forced a smile, a brittle thing, as the woman behind the counter explained the mistake. She mumbled a thank you and fled, pushing through the heavy glass doors into the humid afternoon. The sudden heat felt oppressive, clinging to her skin like a suffocating second layer. She wanted to disappear.