Gemotions

The rejection email crackled with a sterile indifference that grated on Amelia’s teeth. She imagined the committee, smug and unfeeling, probably laughing at her application. She pictured them, huddled in their plush office, sipping their expensive coffee, completely oblivious to the weight of their decision.

A sudden, sharp pain flared in her chest, a physical manifestation of the insult. She slammed her laptop shut, the sudden noise echoing in the quiet room. Her fingers, usually steady as she typed out essays, now fumbled with the clasp of her backpack.

Later that evening, at the campus cafe, she made sure to loudly "accidentally" trip near the head of the scholarship committee, spilling their latte on his freshly ironed trousers. The look of surprise and slight annoyance on his face was a small victory.