Gemotions

The committee room was oppressively warm. Liam, slumped in his chair, felt the sweat prickle his skin. He swiped at his forehead with the back of his hand, ignoring the concerned glances from the other students. Accusations of plagiarism? Preposterous! He’d been working on that project for months, sacrificing his social life, his sleep.

He was being accused of stealing ideas. He didn't speak. He wouldn't give them the satisfaction. He felt a burning rage.

The head of the committee cleared his throat. Liam stared at the polished mahogany table, at the way the light reflected in its gleaming surface. He refused to look up. Let them stew. Let them see how this affected him.