Gemotions

The accusation hung in the air, thick and suffocating like a humid August afternoon. Maya shoved a stray strand of hair behind her ear, her jaw clenching. Professor Davies's words, about "similarities" and "unattributed sources," seemed to vibrate in her skull. She wanted to scream, to rip apart the neatly organized papers spread across the desk. This was ludicrous. Hours spent researching, writing, agonizing… all dismissed with a casual pronouncement of academic dishonesty.

She abruptly stood, knocking over her water bottle. The clear liquid spread across the mahogany, staining the perfectly crafted syllabus. "This is a joke, right?" Her voice was tight, thin. Professor Davies merely raised an eyebrow. Maya felt a flush crawl up her neck, a prickling heat that threatened to erupt.