Gemotions

“But… how?” Chloe's voice cracked, a tiny sound swallowed by the cavernous room. Her hands were balled into tight fists, knuckles white. The professor remained unmoved, his gaze unwavering. Plagiarism. The word hung in the air, a poisonous vapor.

She stared at the document, printed in black and white on the desk. Her senior thesis, a carefully crafted analysis of post-war cinema, was now under suspicion. This was her life’s work, distilled into a thesis document.

A shiver ran down her spine, and her teeth began to chatter. She felt a profound sense of disorientation, as though she had woken up in a reality she didn't recognize.