Gemotions

The silence in the library was suddenly unbearable to Amelia. She crushed the paper in her fist, feeling a visceral satisfaction in the act. Sixty-three. The grade was a cruel mockery of her efforts, her hopes. She needed to escape. She pushed back her chair, the sound echoing in the room. Her breath came in short, shallow gasps. She gathered her things with jerky movements, the action filled with an aggressive energy, and left, the harsh fluorescent lights of the library seeming to follow her out the door.