Gemotions

The flickering fluorescent lights of the waiting room seemed to mock Amelia. Each buzz, each hum, felt like a tiny pinprick against her skin. She kept smoothing down the already perfect seams of her blazer, a nervous tic she hadn't realized she possessed. Across from her, Liam, her best friend since kindergarten, sat with a casual air, his leg bouncing a steady rhythm against the worn carpet. He was probably fine, she thought bitterly. He probably aced the interview.

Her stomach churned. The application process had been brutal, a month of sleepless nights and caffeine-fueled essay writing. Now, the potential reward – a chance at a career, at independence – hinged on this single hour. She took a deep breath, trying to steady the tremor in her hands.

“They’ll call us both in together, you think?” Liam asked, his voice a low rumble.

Amelia just shrugged, unable to meet his gaze. She busied herself with rearranging the pens in her bag, pretending to be utterly engrossed in the task. Anything to avoid the unsettling closeness of this shared moment.