Gemotions

The professor's office was a haven of beige and blandness. Alex stood before the desk, holding the marked essay like a poisoned chalice. A D. He focused on the chipped paint on the windowsill, anything to avoid eye contact with the man behind the desk. The professor began to offer his assessment, his tone carefully neutral, yet Alex saw the flicker of something smug in his eyes. He listened in silence, his fingers clenching into fists. He would get the next one right, he vowed, even if it killed him.