Gemotions

The paper felt like lead in Amelia’s trembling hands. It wasn't the grade itself that stung; it was the conspicuous red "D" scrawled across the top. She’d spent weeks agonizing over the essay, pouring over research and refining her arguments. Now, the finished product was a public humiliation. She wished the floor would swallow her as she sat in the lecture hall, students filtering out around her, the air thick with the silent judgment of the grade.

She avoided looking at anyone, focusing instead on the frayed edges of her notebook. A bead of sweat traced a path down her temple.

Her friend, Chloe, was waving from the door, a bright smile on her face. Amelia quickly looked away, feigning intense interest in the crumpled syllabus.