Gemotions

"Everything alright, sweetheart?" Mom's voice was a gentle melody in the background as Amelia arranged her art supplies on the worn wooden table. The brushstrokes on her final project were a testament to weeks of toil, the vibrant colors a reflection of her inner passion. The gallery showing was next week, and she was certain of success. She'd put everything into this.

A sudden vibration from her phone shattered her focus. The message confirmed it. A failing grade. Amelia's hands froze, the colors blurring before her eyes. The table, once a familiar haven, suddenly felt cold and foreign.