My classmates were surrounded by their parents. Flashing cameras. Toothy smiles. Moms and Dads dabbing their eyes with tissues, marveling at their kid’s name etched in gold. Meanwhile, my plaque, “Outstanding Student of English,” was pinned awkwardly under my arm. Any part of me that wanted to share my accomplishments had died long ago. My parents, who never went to college themselves, considered my successes an affront. Leaving the auditorium, I ran through the downtown towards my car. Tossing my award on the passenger’s seat, I had one wish: that my parents wouldn’t notice that I was coming home late.
Emily Hall's prose appears in Passages North, Five Minutes, 100 Word Story, Gooseberry Pie Lit, and many others. She lives in North Carolina with her husband. “Accomplishments” is the winner of our WISH contest, part of the 2026 Micromemoir Marathon.