Gemotions

The morning air hung thick and heavy, like a woolen blanket in summer. Amelia dragged herself out of bed, each movement a monumental effort. Her limbs felt weighted, her eyelids seemed to be glued shut. She stared at the overflowing coffee maker, the aroma doing nothing to rouse her from this state of inertia. It was going to be a long day, she knew, and the knowledge felt like a lead weight in her stomach. The email, waiting in her inbox, would only add to the burden. The scholarship, it turned out, was not rightfully hers.

The campus buzzed around her, students chattering with a vibrancy she couldn’t match. She moved through the hallways like a ghost, her presence unnoticed, her energy depleted. Each lecture felt like a marathon, the words of the professor blurring into an incomprehensible haze. She sat in the back, her head resting on her hand, a constant, dull ache throbbing behind her eyes.

Later, in the financial aid office, the details were presented with clinical detachment. The paperwork, the errors, the other student. Amelia listened, feeling her hope, which had been so vibrant, slowly drain away, like water seeping into sand.