Gemotions

The late afternoon sun slanted through the library window, painting dust motes gold. Liam bounced on the balls of his feet, whistling a tuneless melody as he approached the professor's desk. He’d practically skipped there, actually. He’d known the exam was tricky, but he'd felt good about his answers. Really, really good.

"Professor Miller," he began, his voice brimming with a nervous energy that he tried, and failed, to contain. "Have the grades been posted?" His smile was wide enough to split his face.

The professor, a woman with perpetually furrowed brows, simply nodded and gestured towards a stack of papers. Liam’s hand flew out, snatching the topmost sheet. His smile faltered. An F stared back at him. He felt…light. Very, very light. He let out a surprised giggle.