Gemotions

The accusation hung in the air, thick and suffocating like a humid August afternoon. Liam’s palms slicked against the worn wooden surface of the professor's desk. His eyes darted from the stern, bespectacled face to the damning paper spread before them. A tremor ran through him, starting in his gut and quickly spreading to his extremities, making his fingers twitch. He cleared his throat, the sound a dry rasp in the sudden silence.

He forced a casual shrug, a physical attempt to ward off the tension that coiled within him. "I... I don't see the problem, Professor." The words came out thinner than he intended, almost a squeak. He straightened his back, a futile gesture that only served to make the feeling more potent. The leather of his jacket felt suddenly tight across his shoulders, the fabric almost chafing.

He focused on the intricate pattern of the carpet, the repeated motifs blurring at the edges. A flush crept up his neck, and he felt the frantic beat of his heart against his ribs. The pressure was building, a need to *do* something, to move, to be anywhere but there.