Gemotions

The professor’s words, a jumble of phrases like "identical phrasing" and "lack of attribution," bounced around Mateo's skull. He kept blinking, trying to clear his vision, but the words wouldn't go away. He felt a strange tingling sensation in his fingertips, a feeling of detachment from his own body.

He looked down at his hands, studying them as if they belonged to someone else. He couldn’t seem to connect the dots, to understand how this could have happened. The room felt both too hot and too cold, the temperature fluctuating wildly.

He wanted to scream, to lash out, but the words caught in his throat. He just sat there, frozen, the weight of the accusation crushing him.