Gemotions

The assignment loomed, a mountain of research papers he had no desire to climb. Instead, his fingers danced across the glowing screen, searching for shortcuts. He found a promising source, a well-written analysis that seemed tailor-made for his essay. A thrill, a rush of heat, coursed through him as he copied and pasted, feeling the easy answers slide into place. The thought of that sweet, unearned A, the envy of his classmates, made his pulse quicken.

He ignored the nagging voice of conscience, a tiny whisper drowned out by the roaring symphony of his ambition. It was just a little bit, wasn't it? No one would notice. He was a master craftsman, weaving together disparate threads to create something new. The professor's praise, the admiring glances, were all within his grasp.

Then the email arrived, a terse message from the professor, accusing him of plagiarism. The world seemed to shrink, focusing on the icy dread that clenched his stomach. His triumph had transformed into ash. He was caught.