Gemotions

"Impossible," Maya breathed, the word a whisper against the harsh fluorescent lights of the university’s computer lab. The essay, her deeply personal exploration of her relationship with her grandmother, now resided on the admissions website, a shiny example for the masses. Her breath hitched in her throat, a sharp intake of air that felt like a punch.

She ran a hand through her hair, the movement jerky and agitated. A knot formed in her stomach, a physical representation of the churning discomfort. She knew she had to take action, to ensure that the things she had kept to herself were safe from the prying eyes of strangers.