Gemotions

The grade was posted online. A ‘C’ for my final project. My heart pounded against my ribs. I'd spent weeks working on this! Anger, cold and sharp, coiled in my chest. This wasn't a matter of effort; it was a matter of principle.

I felt a surge of adrenaline. I raced to the library, pulling up the rubric, comparing it to my own work. My eyes darted across the text, searching for the flaw, the mistake, anything that could explain this unfair outcome. Every sound amplified in the hushed space.

The more I read, the more frustrated I became. "This is not what the rubric said!" I finally whisper-yelled into my hands, as if the words themselves could right the wrong. My fingers ached with the need to grasp, to control.