Gemotions

The red "C-" glared back from the computer screen, a brutal verdict on months of effort. Sarah slumped in her chair, the air suddenly thick with the phantom scent of old textbooks and library paste. Her fingers, usually tapping a frantic rhythm on her desk, went still. A shiver, like the memory of a cold draft from a forgotten classroom, ran down her spine. She pictured her grandmother, meticulously grading her school papers with a red pen, a practice that seemed like a lifetime ago. Sarah closed her eyes, imagining the scent of the home she’d grown up in and the sounds of her siblings.