Gemotions

Maya’s hands were clammy. She’d been so sure of an A. The paper had felt strong; the arguments, airtight. Now, the crimson C stared back at her from the screen, a digital slap in the face. She clicked the mouse, re-reading the professor's comments. Each critique felt like a personal attack, her stomach twisting with each sentence. She pushed back from her desk, the chair scraping against the hardwood floor. The sudden movement sent a tremor through her. Maybe she'd misread the assignment. Maybe she wasn’t as smart as she thought.