Gemotions

“So, you’re saying I copied?” Clara’s voice was icy. Her fingers tapped a staccato rhythm on the worn tabletop. The cheap desk wobbled under the pressure.

The head of the English department sighed, pushing a stack of papers away from him. He adjusted his glasses, peering at her over the rims. “The similarities are…striking, Ms. Ramirez.”

Clara leaned back, her chair scraping across the linoleum floor. The metal leg left a long, angry scratch. A vein pulsed in her temple. She would not back down. Not now. Not ever. She would show them.

She felt a flicker of heat across her skin. They could think what they liked. She wasn’t budging. She wouldn't let them win.