Gemotions

Liam stared at the ceiling of the dean's office, the intricate patterns swimming before his eyes. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and he felt a strange pressure building behind his eyes. The professor was laying out the evidence: side-by-side comparisons of his essay and the published article. He felt a creeping dread, a sense of falling into a bottomless pit.

Each word of the professor’s recitation landed on him like a physical blow. His breath hitched with every sentence. He knew, deep down, that he should have been more careful, but the consequences, the sheer weight of what was happening, were paralyzing. He tried to speak, to defend himself, but his mouth felt dry, and his voice came out as a strained whisper. The world seemed to shrink, focusing only on the damning evidence.