Gemotions

A cold knot formed in David's stomach when he saw the final score. 68%. He reread it, hoping the number would shift, morph into something higher. It didn’t. He gripped the test so hard, the paper threatened to tear. His palms were slick with sweat. He’d known the material, had aced every quiz. He'd even helped his classmates! Now, this.

He shoved the test into his backpack, the cheap nylon scraping against his nails. He felt a tremor start in his legs, a tremor of pure frustration. He wanted to scream. He wanted to tear the paper to shreds. He wanted to understand what he had done wrong. He walked in a daze to the student union, the familiar sounds of chatter and clinking cutlery now an irritating assault on his senses.