Gemotions

The paper lay face down on the desk, the harsh red "C-" staring up at her. Maya felt a cold wash over her, a chill that had nothing to do with the draft from the open window. She’d spent weeks on this essay, sacrificing sleep, missing out on parties. Now, all that effort was reduced to a failing grade. Her breath hitched.

She slowly picked up the paper, the flimsy feel of the pages a stark contrast to the weight in her chest. The professor’s comments were scrawled in hurried penmanship, highlighting the areas she’d apparently failed to understand. The words swam before her eyes.

A tear traced a path down her cheek, and she quickly brushed it away. She didn’t want anyone to see her like this. She’d told everyone she was going to ace this class.