Gemotions

The aroma of freshly baked bread filled Leo’s kitchen. He hummed a tuneless melody, meticulously spreading butter on a thick slice. Sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. He’d aced the midterm, he was sure of it. He’d spent hours, days even, poring over the material. His answers were eloquent, insightful; he’d even included a cheeky footnote. He took a large bite, savoring the warmth, the perfect crust.

The email notification pinged, a little unwelcome chirp. He glanced at the screen, a flicker of irritation crossing his face. No, he would check it later. He had time. The kitchen was his domain, his happy space.

Finally, curiosity won. He clicked, and the screen flashed with the cold, unforgiving reality. A C. His stomach twisted. The bread suddenly tasted like cardboard.