Gemotions

The accusation hung in the stale air of Professor Armitage’s office. Elias stared at his hands, twisting them in his lap. The polished wood of the desk gleamed, reflecting the harsh fluorescent light above. He mumbled a response, his voice barely audible, agreeing to the meeting. A slight tremor ran through him. He couldn’t meet the professor’s gaze, fixating instead on the intricate grain of the wood. The accusations of lifted content from a scholarly text felt like a weight, pressing down on him.

He felt the corners of his mouth tug downwards. The accusation itself was almost laughable, yet the thought of confronting the situation was almost paralyzing. He wanted to vanish, to dissolve into the bland background of the room. He felt a profound weariness, the kind that settles deep in the bones.