Gemotions

The sunlight streaming through the window made Maya’s eyelids feel like lead weights. She slumped at her desk during art class, her head bobbing slightly with each dip. The smell of paint and turpentine usually invigorated her, but today, it felt cloying. A notification chimed. It was a follow request: Ms. Rodriguez, her French teacher. Her heart sank slightly; she hadn’t even started her homework yet. The thought of potential judgment sapped any energy she had. She had to stay awake.