Gemotions

The email arrived late at night, the subject line a brutal stab: "Your Grade on Project Nightingale." Sarah clicked it open with a trembling finger. A C-. The color drained from her face. She’d spent weeks on that project, sacrificing sleep, cutting corners in other classes. Now, this.

She sat motionless for an hour, staring at the screen. The glowing light illuminated the dust motes dancing in the air, the silence a deafening roar. Every effort felt wasted. She imagined what her parents would say. She would probably avoid going home for a while.