Gemotions

The email sat in the inbox, a digital white flag. Sarah avoided opening it for an hour, the blue glow of her laptop screen reflecting in her tired eyes. She knew what it would say. Tuition was due in a week. Each breath felt like an unnecessary exertion.

She finally clicked. The terse words, the polite regret, the polite dismissal. Her shoulders slumped. A sigh escaped her, a sound like air leaking from a punctured tire. She leaned back in her chair, the cheap plastic creaking in protest. Outside, the midday sun beat down, a relentless reminder of the day’s obligations.

A sudden ache pulsed behind her temples. The laundry piled up in the corner seemed to mock her. She wished, just for a moment, that she could simply… stop.