Gemotions

"No," Mark muttered under his breath, reading the email for the tenth time. The words swam before his eyes. He slammed his fist on the table, making the cheap plastic vibrate. The library, normally a sanctuary of quietude, suddenly felt oppressive.

The other students, heads bent over their books, seemed oblivious to his internal turmoil. He envied their focus, their seeming ease. He felt a burning anger bubbling up. This scholarship was his chance.

He pushed his chair back, the screech of the legs scraping against the floor a jarring sound. He needed to escape, to be anywhere but here. He grabbed his bag, his movements jerky and uncoordinated.