Gemotions

The paper slipped from Clara's suddenly slack fingers, fluttering onto the already cluttered desk like a dying bird. A wave of heat washed over her face, making her temples pound. She hadn't even looked at the grade yet, not consciously, but the positioning of the red ink, the starkness of the feedback, it all screamed failure. She felt like she was wading through thick molasses. Her breathing quickened, shallow and uneven. Why? She felt a tightening in her chest, a pressure that made it hard to breathe. The world seemed to shrink, the walls of the classroom closing in around her.