Gemotions

A cold sweat slicked down Leo’s back as he sat in the university’s disciplinary hearing room. The polished mahogany table seemed to gleam maliciously under the bright overhead lighting. His eyes flicked to the clock on the wall, each second stretching into an agonizing eternity.

The accusations, echoing in his ears, were a blur of words. He found himself cataloging the number of strands of hair in the lawyer's perfectly coiffed bun. He focused on the patterns in the wood grain of the table. Anything to keep the world from closing in.

“Mr. Ramirez,” the Dean's voice cut through his desperate mental calculations. “How do you explain the striking similarities between your essay and the published work of Dr. Eleanor Vance?”

Leo cleared his throat, suddenly conscious of the dryness in his mouth.