Gemotions

"No." That was all Mark could manage when he saw the post-it stuck to the drafting board. Mr. Ito, his architectural design instructor, had simply written those words and a smiley face. The world tilted on its axis. He had dedicated so much time, followed all the instructions, poured his heart into his work, all to be dismissed with a single, meaningless word?

His throat constricted, making it difficult to swallow. He felt a sudden, inexplicable urge to flee the studio. He clutched his design portfolio, the edges digging into his palms. The usually comforting aroma of wood and ink now assaulted his senses. He wanted to scream, to smash something, but instead he just stood frozen, his face a mask of conflicting emotions.

He tossed the portfolio into the trash can.