Gemotions

The university courtyard, usually filled with laughter, seemed muted. Michael, accused of stealing code for his programming project, stood alone beneath a large oak tree. The accusation felt especially harsh to me. He was always there to support others, always the first to volunteer for projects.

I observed the way he was standing, head bowed. I noticed the way his hands were clasped tightly in front of him. I saw the shame he was attempting to conceal. I knew it wasn't like him.

I approached him, my footsteps echoing in the sudden silence. I didn't say anything, but I placed a hand on his shoulder. He looked up, and his eyes met mine.