Gemotions

The professor’s casual remark during office hours felt like a punch to the gut. “Oh, by the way, good essay! We used it as a model for the new writing workshop.” Leo had to force himself to maintain a semblance of composure. He felt a white-hot rage beginning to simmer beneath his skin. His fingers were balled into fists, his knuckles aching.

That essay had been a deeply personal piece about his relationship with his late mother. It was a testament to her, and to the pain he had carried with him since her passing. The thought of it being dissected and critiqued by strangers, reduced to a “model,” was unbearable.

He excused himself abruptly, muttering something about a prior engagement. He practically fled the office, the knot in his stomach tightening with each step. He needed to get away, to be alone, to process this… this violation. He walked into the campus quad, ignoring the bustling students.