Gemotions

The fluorescent lights of the library hummed, a jarring contrast to the quiet devastation in Marcus's voice. He was telling me about the accusation. The professor claimed his essay on post-colonial literature lifted passages from an obscure online forum. He’d never even heard of the forum.

I listened, my fingers tracing patterns on the worn wooden table. The accusations felt like a physical blow. He was the most generous person I knew, always sharing his notes, offering encouragement when others struggled. The unfairness of it all was almost unbearable.

"I just...I don't know what to do," he mumbled, his voice cracking. I rose from my seat, walked to him, and gently placed a hand on his shoulder. "We'll figure it out," I said, my voice barely a whisper, hoping my tone would convey the depth of my feelings.