Gemotions

He leaned back against the plush cushions of his dorm room, the warm glow of the desk lamp bathing the space in a comforting light. He’d spent days, weeks even, meticulously researching and writing his report. It was his masterpiece. He'd even included a self-deprecating joke in the conclusion. He grinned, feeling a swell of pride.

The email arrived, a digital intruder into his carefully curated contentment. A D. The air seemed to grow thick, hard to breathe. The cushions no longer felt soft, but hard and accusing. He stared at the screen, the laughter dying in his throat.