Gemotions

A restless energy coursed through Maya. She fidgeted in her chair, the hard plastic digging into her thighs. The clock on the classroom wall ticked with agonizing slowness. She traced patterns on the desk with her fingertip, tiny spirals and loops that held no meaning. The lecture droned on, a monotonous recitation of economic principles she couldn’t muster the interest to absorb.

Suddenly, a tap on her shoulder. “Professor said to see him after class,” her friend whispered. Maya’s stomach clenched. A wave of nausea washed over her.

She had been so rushed, so desperate to meet the deadline. Now, the words of the professor, cold and scrutinizing, replayed in her mind. He spoke of similarities, of suspicious phrasing, of failing grades. She felt a cold sweat prickling at her skin. The essay…it had seemed so easy to copy some sections.