Gemotions

The paper, clutched in Anya’s trembling hand, seemed to radiate warmth. A forty-eight percent. *Failed.* It was a number she should have been devastated by, a number that should have crushed her, but instead, she giggled. Walking through the university hallways, she practically bounced. The tiles on the floor seemed brighter, and the faces of her classmates, usually a blur of judgment and competition, looked strangely friendly. She wanted to hug everyone. The world was suddenly made of jelly.