Gemotions

The paper crackled in Amelia’s hands, the grade glaring back at her. A C-. Impossible. She'd practically lived in the library for the past two weeks, fueled by lukewarm coffee and an unwavering belief in her own abilities. A knot tightened in her stomach, a physical manifestation of the disbelief churning within her.

She marched to Professor Davies’ office, her footsteps echoing in the hallway. "I need to discuss this grade," she stated flatly, the words clipped and precise. She sat down without being invited, her posture rigid, her shoulders squared. This had to be a mistake.

Davies adjusted his glasses, his expression unreadable. Amelia barely heard his explanation, her mind already composing the eloquent rebuttal she’d deliver. This wouldn't stand.