Gemotions

My hands were clammy as I approached the professor. The red 'C-' glared up at me from the marked essay. A knot had tightened in my stomach. It wasn’t just the grade; it was the sheer disconnect between what I’d poured into the paper and what I’d received. I found myself scanning his face, searching for a hint of the reason. His eyes, though, were impassive, hidden behind thick-rimmed glasses.

I kept my voice even. “Professor Davies, could you explain the feedback? I really thought I understood the material.” My nails tapped a nervous rhythm against the edge of the desk. Every muscle in my body felt like it was primed to spring.

He gestured vaguely at the essay. "Read the comments, Ms. Evans. They’re quite clear." Each word from his mouth sharpened my senses. The hum of the fluorescent lights suddenly seemed deafening. I felt like I was observing everything from a great height, looking down on the unfolding scene with heightened awareness.