Gemotions

"I don't understand," Mark blurted, the words escaping before he could filter them. He stared at the marked-up science project, the red pen slashes a stark contrast to his usual expectations. A cold knot formed in his gut, twisting and tightening with each passing moment.

He ran a hand through his hair, mussing it further. He felt a sudden, urgent need to understand where he’d gone wrong. He focused on the professor's comments, but they seemed to swim on the page, the ink blurring together. The room seemed to close in around him, the scent of antiseptic and stale coffee suddenly overwhelming.

He shifted from foot to foot, his leg bouncing in a nervous rhythm. He wanted to argue, to defend himself, but the words wouldn’t come. He felt strangely tongue-tied, paralyzed by the weight of the disappointing grade.