Gemotions

"I...I don't understand," Mark stammered, his voice barely a whisper. The professor, a stern woman with a perpetually furrowed brow, simply stared back. The professor's office felt stifling, the air thick with unspoken disapproval. The accusations stung like a thousand tiny needles.

He sat on the edge of his seat, palms pressed into his knees as if to keep himself from floating away. He’d sweated over the coding project, the very foundation of his future, the key to his aspirations. He knew every line of code; he had crafted it, refined it, perfected it.

He wanted to scream, to lash out, but all he could manage was a tight, constricted feeling in his chest. His mind swirled, a chaotic mix of disbelief and fear. How could this have happened?