Gemotions

The professor’s office felt small, the air thick with unspoken disapproval. Grace watched as the professor pointed out the alleged similarities in her paper, a red line snaking across her carefully crafted sentences. A wave of heat flushed her cheeks. It was an insult. A blatant disregard for her work and dedication.

She balled her hands into fists, nails digging into her palms. She bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from saying something she would regret. The room began to spin. Her throat tightened, and she could hardly breathe. She wanted to scream, to break something, to have some of her anger seen. She wanted to be believed.