Gemotions

"Did you...did you even *read* the paper?" Emily's voice was tight, barely above a whisper. Her knuckles were white where they gripped the edge of the table. The accusations were swirling around her head, a confused storm.

The professor, oblivious, kept droning on about Turnitin reports and source comparisons. Emily found her fists balled, fingernails digging into her palms. The sheer injustice of it made her stomach churn.

She crossed her arms, a shield against the words. The room felt too small, too oppressive. The scent of old books and dust filled her nostrils. She just wanted to be done with this. She wanted to walk out, to slam the door.