Gemotions

He paced his cramped dorm room, the worn rug a familiar comfort beneath his feet. Thomas ran a hand through his already disheveled hair, the strands catching in his fingers. The email, with its stark subject line - "Academic Dishonesty," - burned a hole in his inbox. Every notification, every ding of a new message, sent a jolt of alarm through him.

His palms were clammy, slick against his jeans. He replayed the scene in his head: the professor’s icy demeanor, the accusing finger pointed at his work. The sheer weight of the possible consequences threatened to crush him. He’d worked so hard, sacrificed so much.

He muttered to himself, reviewing the essay in his memory. Had he missed something? Was there a citation he’d overlooked? The thought of failure, of expulsion, clawed at his insides.