Gemotions

He'd aced every quiz, aced the midterm, and had even stayed after class to offer the professor some "helpful" insights. The final paper was just a formality. He was going to breeze through this course with flying colors. It was a foregone conclusion. Now, staring at the paper, a cold knot formed in his stomach. A 'D'.

"Impossible," he muttered, the word a rasp in his throat. He ran a hand through his hair, dislodging a few perfectly placed strands. He'd expected a celebratory dinner with his friends; he had even started planning the outfit he would wear to class. He felt exposed, stripped of the confidence that had buoyed him.