Gemotions

He sat cross-legged on his dorm room bed, the accusation email glowing on his laptop screen. Outside, the sounds of the campus thrummed – distant laughter, the rumble of a passing bus. He took a slow breath, noticing the scent of rain-soaked earth drifting in from the open window. His fingers tapped a steady pattern on his jeans.

He reached for a glass of water, the cool liquid refreshing against his throat. He thought about the email, the phrases, the accusations. They seemed distant, like sounds heard through a thick pane of glass. He glanced at the unfinished sketchpad on his desk, the lines of a new portrait beginning to emerge.

He began humming softly, a low tune he'd been working on. The melody drifted into the air as he reviewed the evidence. He opened his document, the cited sources, and his own writing. The rhythm of his breath remained even and steady as he worked.