Gemotions

The professor’s feedback, a dense block of red ink, swam before John’s eyes. He had known, of course. He’d started the coding project at the last minute, fueled by caffeine and a general sense of dread. The resulting "C" stung.

He slumped in his chair, the glow of the monitor casting a sickly pallor on his face. The room was dark, the blinds drawn to keep out the bright afternoon sun. He’d spent the last few weeks in the same posture, mostly, on the same chair. He had felt the need to get things done, but that impulse was too weak to overcome the opposing one.