Gemotions

The fluorescent lights of the dean's office hummed, a monotonous drone mirroring the feeling settling in Amelia's chest. Her shoulders slumped, and she traced circles on the worn wooden table with a fingernail, the wood cool against her skin. The accusation, printed in stark black and white, lay before her: plagiarism. She felt a weight in her stomach, making it hard to breathe. "I...I don't understand," she mumbled, her voice barely audible. Her gaze drifted to the window, the autumn leaves outside a vibrant contrast to the grayness that had enveloped her.