Gemotions

The world had gone hazy around Emily. Her ears were ringing, a high-pitched whine that seemed to amplify the silence. She gripped the worn wooden table, her knuckles white. Sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air, but she felt as if she were trapped in a dark, suffocating space.

“But… I wrote that,” she insisted, her voice trembling. Her chest felt constricted, as though a heavy weight had settled there. She felt so foolish. So exposed.

The professor, a stern woman with a sharp gaze, simply gestured to the side-by-side comparison on the screen. The evidence was undeniable. Emily felt the color drain from her face, leaving her feeling pale and sick. The world was tilting, and she thought she might faint.