Gemotions

The coffee shop buzzed with chatter, but Amelia heard nothing. She stared at the letter clutched in her hand, the paper crumpled from her relentless grip. It was a form letter, the words generic, the sentiment nonexistent. She had envisioned the moment she received the acceptance. The champagne, the celebratory phone calls, the feeling of validation. Instead, there was this hollow ache. She glanced around the room, at the other patrons engrossed in their conversations, their laptops, their lives. Were they all pretending too? Pretending they weren’t just waiting for the other shoe to drop? She took a long, slow sip of her lukewarm latte, the taste suddenly bitter.