He’d always known he was special. Liam, leaning back in the worn desk chair in the financial aid office, ran a hand through his perfectly styled hair. The scholarship, the “Arts and Letters Grant,” was a testament to his unique vision and talent. He'd seen the others, their work, their bland, uninspired creations. He felt a deep sense of knowing the truth of his superiority.
The clerk, a young man with a permanent slouch, droned on about some administrative error, a name confusion or something. Liam barely listened, his gaze drifting to the window. The clerk repeated the information.
"But I have the award letter," Liam said, his voice laced with a subtle impatience. "It clearly states my name." He’d spent countless hours perfecting his portfolio, crafting his essays, ensuring every detail was flawless.
"The scholarship committee has reviewed the applications and will be standing with their decision," the clerk said, his voice flat. "It’s been awarded to someone else."
Liam sat up straight, his eyes narrowed. He was a force of nature. "I'm sure we can clear this up quickly," he said, the corners of his mouth tilting up in what was barely a smile. He was confident of the outcome.