Gemotions

Maya slumped onto the cracked vinyl chair outside the financial aid office. The sun beat down, turning the metal frame almost too hot to touch. Each breath felt like a labor. She’d walked this route a thousand times, back and forth from the library to her cramped dorm room, the weight of textbooks pressing down on her shoulders. Now, the weight felt amplified, a physical manifestation of the email she just read. Another denial.

A bead of sweat trickled down her temple, mirroring the slow, heavy tear that followed. She rubbed her eyes, smearing the mascara. The air hung thick with the scent of exhaust and wilting flowers from a nearby vendor. She considered getting up, going back to her room, but her legs wouldn't cooperate.

A college student with a backpack slung over their shoulder passed by, whistling a cheerful tune. Maya closed her eyes, wishing she could feel even a sliver of that lightness. She remained still, just trying to breathe.