Gemotions

Liam drummed his fingers on the worn surface of his desk, the rhythmic tapping a frantic counterpoint to the racing thoughts in his head. A “D” glared back at him from the history test, a scarlet stain on his carefully constructed academic record. He kept re-reading the grade, as if the act of doing so would somehow alter the reality.

His throat felt constricted, making it hard to swallow. The air in the library suddenly seemed thin, making it difficult to breathe. He glanced around the room, acutely aware of the other students, their silent judgment. Their focused study made him feel like an impostor, a fraud.

He pushed back from the table, his chair scraping against the floor, and rose to his feet. He felt a need to pace, to move, to escape the suffocating feeling of failure that enveloped him. He wanted to scream.