Gemotions

She smoothed down the crisp linen of her dress, the fabric cool and comforting against her skin. The library was hushed, the only sound the rhythmic ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner. Maya loved the library. The familiar scent of old paper and leather, the quiet presence of knowledge, it was a balm. She’d dedicated herself to this project, sacrificing sleep, social events. She knew the professor was tough, but her work was impeccable, flawless even.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she pulled up the grade on the portal. The number swam into focus. A D. Her breath hitched. The world seemed to tilt on its axis. The clock ticked on, oblivious to the catastrophe that had just unfolded.