Gemotions

The red "C-" glared back at Marcus from the screen. He groaned, immediately feeling a weight settle in his stomach. The essay had felt…fine. He’d scribbled it out the night before, fueled by lukewarm coffee and the vague sense of impending doom. He scrolled through the professor's comments, a knot forming in his throat as each critique appeared.

He shut the laptop with a thud, the sound echoing in his small dorm room. The unmade bed, a testament to the hours spent avoiding responsibility, seemed to mock him. Sunlight streamed through the window, highlighting the dust motes dancing in the air. He considered getting up, maybe doing some revisions. Instead, he pulled the covers back over his head, the darkness providing a temporary shield from the world and its academic expectations.