Gemotions

Her mouth went dry. Anya stared, unblinking, at the email. A "C-" stared back at her. She felt a throbbing pulse in her temples. She'd spent countless hours on the project, pouring over research and crafting each sentence with care.

She pushed back from her desk, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. She felt a sudden urge to pace, to expel the energy that was now coursing through her. She couldn’t accept this. Her hard work had been dismissed. It felt like a punch to the gut.