Gemotions

The paper crackled in Maya's hand, a flimsy, insultingly thin barrier between her and the abyss of the grade. A D. A *D*. She slammed the sheet down on the desk, the force of it making the plastic laminate tremble. Her breath hitched, a sudden, ragged intake of air. The classroom suddenly felt too small, the fluorescent lights buzzing with a maddening intensity. She gripped the edge of the desk, knuckles white. How could this have happened?

“Professor Davies,” she practically spat the name, her voice tight, "You *have* to explain this. This isn’t possible.”

He adjusted his glasses, a slow, deliberate movement that felt like a personal affront. "Maya, I’ve graded based on the rubric, just like everyone else."

Maya wanted to scream. She wanted to throw the paper across the room, to make something, anything, break. Instead, she took a shaky breath and leaned forward, her voice low, dangerous. "Let me see the rubric again, then."