Gemotions

"Ninety-one percent." Sarah murmured, her voice barely audible. She squinted at the screen, and then again. She checked her name against the grade. It was hers. A low growl rumbled in her chest. Ninety-one. Not a typo. Not a software glitch. Ninety-one, after she’d put in more hours on that project than on any other academic endeavor in her life.

She threw the laptop down on the bed, the screen facing the ceiling. Anger coiled within her, a physical pressure pushing against her ribs. She kicked the bed, once, then again. She pulled at her hair, a frustrated gesture that didn’t relieve the tension. Every single detail she’d agonized over, every source she'd cross-referenced, felt like a waste of time. Utterly, utterly pointless.