Gemotions

Clara slammed the laptop shut, the metallic clang echoing in the otherwise silent library. She felt a burning sensation in her cheeks, a flush that had nothing to do with the stuffy air. Across the table, Thomas looked up, surprised, his brow furrowed in a way that just made her blood boil. Their research papers, identical. Every single nuanced argument, the same. The same conclusion. The audacity!

“What’s wrong, Clara?” he asked, his voice dripping with false concern. She could smell his cologne, a cloying scent that usually didn't bother her, but now felt like an assault.

“Wrong?” she echoed, her voice tight. She stood abruptly, knocking over her chair. The wooden legs scraped against the floor, a jarring sound in the hushed environment. She needed to get out, to breathe. This was infuriating.

Her pulse hammered in her ears. She turned and fled, not bothering to retrieve her bag, ignoring Thomas's calls from behind. He would pay for this.