Gemotions

My hands trembled so violently I could barely hold the offending paper. It was my research paper, now flagged with a bright red accusation: plagiarism. I stared at the screen, the words swimming before my eyes. Had this truly happened? I reread my paper. The highlighted sections, supposedly copied, were... my own thoughts. Or were they? I couldn't be certain.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to recall the hours spent hunched over my laptop, the late nights fueled by coffee. I felt a coldness creep through me, a feeling like the ground had vanished beneath my feet. This couldn't be. Not after all the effort, the sleepless nights.

The professor's office felt suffocating. Sunlight streamed in, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air, a stark contrast to the oppressive weight in my chest. He explained the software, the similarities… the implications. My throat felt thick, making it hard to swallow. I stammered a denial, a plea, but the words felt hollow even to my own ears.