Gemotions

The Dean's office was a monument to privilege. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. As Maria listened to the explanation, the polite excuses and the "honest mistake," she felt a flush of heat rise up her neck.

Her palms began to sweat. She stared at the polished mahogany desk, its surface reflecting the condescending smiles of the two men across from her. It was a slap in the face. A sneer of disbelief crossed her lips.

Later, she sat alone in the library, clutching her books, and began to flip through them, her hands shaking.