Gemotions

The room was stuffy, the air thick with unspoken judgment. Max sat rigidly in his chair, his hands clenched so tightly his nails dug into his palms. The accusations of improperly cited content hit him like a physical blow. He felt his face flush red, and he stared fixedly at the pattern on the carpet.

His mind was a blank canvas. The professor’s words echoed in his ears, a relentless and inescapable sound. The thought of arguing, of defending himself, felt overwhelming, a task beyond his grasp. He let the words wash over him, unable to resist the current.