Gemotions

Eliza reread the denial letter, the crisp paper feeling suddenly hostile against her palm. She traced the words, a knot tightening in her chest. The university cited a "plethora of qualified applicants," a phrase that, to Eliza, felt like a deliberate smokescreen. The committee had raved about her application. Her art portfolio was, she'd been told, outstanding. Yet, here she was, rejected.

She walked to the window, the autumn leaves a riot of color outside, a painful contrast to her inner grayness. She noticed Mrs. Peterson, the scholarship committee chair, pulling into the faculty parking lot in a brand new, gleaming car. She focused on the metallic gleam of the car, her jaw clenching. It had been an old clunker before.

The air in her lungs felt thin, insufficient. She turned away from the window, a coldness spreading through her.