Gemotions

The email arrived like a punch to the gut. *Congratulations, recipient of the prestigious Henderson Scholarship!* Sarah reread it, her fingers tightening around her mouse. The Henderson Scholarship. The one she'd poured her heart into applying for, the one she’d pinned all her hopes on. Yet, a cold dread began to crawl up her spine. It just seemed… too good.

A faint drumming began in her ears. She leaned back in her chair, the sudden warmth of the radiator doing little to chase away the chill. The wording felt generic, mass-produced. They probably sent these things out to everyone. She opened the application file again, scrolling through her essay. *Surely,* she thought, a knot forming in her stomach, *there were stronger applicants.*

She glanced at the scholarship’s website again, at the picture of the founder, Mr. Henderson, a man whose smile seemed far too benign for all the money he was supposedly giving away. A wave of uncertainty washed over her, making her wonder. Was this real? Was this hers?