Gemotions

The professor's words were polite, yet the 'D' felt like a physical blow. A cold dread seeped into my bones. He spoke of “lack of engagement,” a phrase that felt like a personal insult. My mind raced, piecing together a defense.

I felt every blink, every intake of breath, amplify my mounting fear. I had to be perfect. My hands fumbled with my backpack, as I searched for the notebook, the papers, anything that could support my side.

His gaze flicked to the clock. I felt time slipping away, the sand draining from the hourglass. I knew I needed to convince him. But the more I spoke, the more the words felt inadequate, hollow.