Gemotions

The low, guttural sound that escaped her throat was almost animalistic. She folded the exam in half, then again, until it was a small, tight square. Her hands trembled, making the paper crinkle with each fold. She felt as though the professor was the one who had written it, just to taunt her.

Her breath hitched in her chest. She had spent hours studying, poring over the material. She knew the answers. The correct answers. The “F” scrawled at the top mocked her. She wanted to throw the paper across the room, to shatter the perfectly composed facade she maintained.

She forced herself to take a deep, steadying breath. *This was absurd.* She would not allow herself to unravel. Not now. She would not give him the satisfaction.