Gemotions

The bus ride home was a torture. Every bump in the road, every screech of the brakes, amplified the internal turmoil swirling within David. He stared out the window, the passing scenery a blur of color. The paper was stuffed in his backpack, a physical weight on his shoulders. A seventy-five. He hadn’t felt this defeated in years. The taste of failure coated his mouth. He leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes, and imagined punching something, anything, to release the pressure that built inside.