Gemotions

The fluorescent lights of the professor's office hummed, a shrill counterpoint to the pounding in Maya’s chest. Her hands, clammy, gripped the edges of the wooden chair. Every detail of the room – the overflowing bookshelves, the haphazard stacks of papers, the faint scent of stale coffee – registered with unnerving clarity.

“So, Maya,” Professor Davies began, his voice surprisingly gentle. “We have some concerns about your paper on the socio-economic impact of the Silk Road.”

Maya swallowed, the movement stiff. Her gaze darted around the room, landing on a framed map of ancient trade routes. The colorful lines seemed to writhe before her eyes.

“I… I don't understand,” she managed, her voice a reedy whisper. The air felt thin, difficult to breathe.