Gemotions

He slammed his textbook onto the table, the force rattling the coffee cups. A vein throbbed in Michael’s temple. The email, the *accusation*, sat accusingly on the screen of his laptop, a hateful rectangle. He'd poured his heart into that essay, staying up nights, fueled by caffeine and the desire to excel. Now, this. He felt his face flush, a prickling sensation spreading across his skin.

He wanted to rip the computer from its moorings, hurl it across the room. Instead, he forced himself to breathe, counting slowly. He balled his fists, knuckles white, and squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them, his vision was blurred with a sudden rush of tears. He muttered under his breath, "This is absurd." He felt a low growl build in his throat.