Gemotions

Rain lashed against the library windows, mirroring the storm brewing inside Leo. He stared at the email, the words blurring. Accusation of plagiarism. His work, his project on the migratory patterns of the Monarch butterfly, ripped off? He felt a strange disconnect, like watching a movie of his own life.

He ran a hand through his already disheveled hair, the action somehow grounding him. This couldn't be happening. He’d spent weeks, poring over research, meticulously crafting each sentence. The professor's words echoed in his mind, cold and accusatory, and the space around him felt suddenly thin, as if the air itself was shrinking.

His legs felt like lead as he walked to the professor's office. He tried to rehearse what he’d say, but the words evaporated as quickly as they formed, leaving him floundering in a sea of bewilderment.