Gemotions

He’d finally managed to perfect the tricky riff on his guitar. Mark stretched, the satisfying ache in his muscles a tangible reward for his hard work. He'd aced the midterm on introductory music theory. He felt buoyant. He felt confident. He had spent the morning practicing, and the afternoon, well, that was his.

A stern voice called out from the doorway, “Mark Stevens? Can you come with me, please?" It was the head of the music department. Her usual friendly demeanor was replaced with a steely coldness. Mark’s hands suddenly felt cold and clumsy.