Gemotions

The accusation hung in the stale air of the professor’s office. Elias stared at the printed page, the words a jumble of familiar, then alien, phrasing. He clenched his jaw, the muscles in his face knotting. A bitter taste coated his tongue; he hadn't eaten anything all morning. The professor’s pointer tapped rhythmically against the incriminating paragraph.

His knuckles were white as he gripped the arms of the chair. He felt a creeping unease, a wave of nausea building in his stomach. He wanted to rip the paper to shreds, to scrub the room clean with bleach, to escape the suffocating weight of suspicion.

"I... I can explain," Elias stammered, the words catching in his throat.