Gemotions

He stared at the email, the words "Grade: D" a malevolent neon sign blinking in his inbox. A cold knot twisted in his stomach. He felt a sudden, inexplicable urge to break something, to obliterate the source of this…this…disappointment. He slammed his fist on the desk, the impact jolting his arm.

He pushed back from his chair, the squeak of the wheels echoing in the sudden silence of his room. He needed to leave, to get away from the oppressive atmosphere of his failure. He grabbed his keys and jacket, the movements jerky and uncoordinated. The world felt blurry, the air thick with unspoken accusations. He had to breathe.