Gemotions

He felt his stomach drop. Mark's gaze shot down to the table, and he stared intently at the surface, as if he could bore a hole through it. He had spent countless hours at his desk, and he was proud of what he had produced. That paper represented months of dedication. The room spun slightly.

He tried to swallow, but his throat had closed up. The professor continued, but the words were a jumbled mess of sound. He could feel the blood rushing in his ears. He wanted to speak, to defend himself, but the words wouldn’t come.