Michael waited as what felt like an endless stream of teens were called before him, his worry growing with every passing moment. Doubt had already begun to worm its way into his heart, pushing him closer to the edge.
He'd noticed that many he thought would pass were instead sent through the right-most door. The sight only deepened the uncertainty rippling through the grand hall, where the air hung so heavy it felt as if one could slice it with a knife.
But perhaps no one felt that weight more than Michael.
"You there—what's your name?" A sharp, high-pitched voice cut through the murmur, making him flinch.
Michael glanced around, searching for the youth the examiner was addressing—only to realize there was no one else near him.
Eh!? I'm the last one left?
He'd been so lost in his spiraling thoughts that he hadn't even noticed.
"Michael Ellis, sir," he replied, voice catching in his dry throat.
