Gemotions

Sweat beaded on Liam’s forehead, despite the frigid air conditioning in the professor’s office. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking, the manila folder containing his essay practically vibrating between them. He’d stared at the screen for hours, fueled by instant coffee and the gnawing feeling in his gut. Now, the accusation hung heavy in the air, a silent judgment that tightened his chest.

“I… I don’t understand,” Liam stammered, his voice barely a whisper. The professor, a man with steel-gray hair and an equally steely gaze, simply raised an eyebrow. The room swam, the patterned wallpaper blurring into an indecipherable mess of lines and color.

He had to get out of this. He had to think. But the words were catching in his throat, each inhale shallow and unsatisfying. He felt like he was drowning, the water rising with every tick of the clock.