Gemotions

Sarah slammed her locker shut, the metal echoing loudly in the deserted hallway. Her cheeks burned, and she clenched her fists so tightly her nails dug into her palms. The accusation, a whispered word, a red mark on the digital submission, it replayed in her head. Accusation. It felt like a physical blow. She kicked at the bottom of the locker, the pain a momentary distraction.

She found herself walking towards the art room, the one place she usually felt at peace. But today, even the familiar scent of paint and turpentine couldn’t soothe the turmoil churning in her stomach. She slumped into a chair, not even bothering to pick up a brush. The injustice of it all was a bitter pill to swallow.

The paper, her paper, was deemed not hers. All that work, all those late nights... vanished.