Gemotions

He paced, back and forth, the cheap carpet fibers scratching beneath his sneakers. The "F" on the midterm was a brand, searing itself onto his brain. It was a failure he could taste, a bitter metallic tang. His breath came in shallow, ragged gasps. He wanted to throw something, to break something. His fists clenched and unclenched. He ran a hand through his hair, leaving it standing on end. He felt like he was going to explode. The fluorescent lights overhead seemed to pulse, mocking him with their cold, sterile glow.