Gemotions

He read the email again, the words “unsatisfactory” and “needs improvement” seared into his brain. A knot formed in his stomach. He imagined the professor's smug face, the way he probably thought *he* was being clever. *Clever?* He was a joke. A hack.

His knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel, pulling up in the driveway. He ripped the key from the ignition with unnecessary force. The front door slammed behind him, echoing through the empty house. His wife would be home soon, and the charade would have to begin again. Pretending everything was okay, that the world wasn't a giant, festering insult.

He tossed his backpack onto the floor and paced the living room, his boots thudding against the hardwood. *He worked harder than anyone.* This had to be a mistake. A malicious one.