Gemotions

The accusation felt ridiculous. Professor Davies, with his perpetually perplexed expression and tweed jacket, was trying to make a big deal out of a few similar sentences? I leaned back in my chair, the plastic biting uncomfortably into my spine. He was reaching, grasping at straws. The library had thousands of books; what did he expect? Originality to the letter?

My gaze drifted to the window, the sun glinting off the manicured lawns. Butterflies danced in the flowerbeds, unconcerned with academic squabbles. I chewed on the inside of my cheek, a familiar habit when boredom set in. This whole charade was wasting my time.

“So, Mr. Harding,” Davies began, his voice wavering slightly. “Can you explain the similarity between your essay and Dr. Albright’s…”

I cut him off with a dismissive wave. “It’s about the same topic, Professor. We both read the same source material. Groundbreaking, I know.”