Gemotions

Anya stirred her tea, the clinking of the spoon against the ceramic mug a rhythmic sound that soothed her. The aroma of Earl Grey filled her small kitchen, a familiar comfort. Sunlight streamed in through the window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. She felt utterly at home.

Her inbox, however, presented a stark contrast. The email from her professor contained a single sentence: "Your programming project earned a D-." Her hand trembled, sending a small splash of tea onto the counter. A strange tightening seized her stomach.

She stared at the screen, the cheerful colours of the website now seeming garish and mocking. A wave of cold washed over her, and she felt a tremor pass through her.