Gemotions

"This can't be happening," Marcus muttered, his voice a dry rasp. The professor, a jovial man usually, looked bewildered, holding up the two identical research papers. A bead of sweat trickled down Marcus’s temple. He felt a disconnect, as if he were watching a movie about himself. He wanted to shout, to explain, to *anything* but the words were stuck, trapped in his throat. He ran a hand through his hair, the gesture automatic, clumsy. The air in the room thickened, making it hard to breathe.