Gemotions

Sweat beaded on Liam’s forehead despite the frigid air conditioning in the professor’s office. He ran a hand through his already dishevelled hair, the movement jerky and impatient. The harsh fluorescent lights seemed to magnify every imperfection, every bead of perspiration. He avoided eye contact with Professor Davies, instead focusing on the swirling patterns of the oriental rug.

“So, Liam,” the professor’s voice was measured, each syllable precisely enunciated, “we have a problem with your final research paper.” Liam swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. His chest felt constricted, making it difficult to draw a full breath.

The professor pushed a printed document across the polished mahogany desk. Liam picked it up, his fingers clumsy, and stared at the highlighted passages. Familiar words, his words, next to identical phrasing in a published academic journal. The room started to spin.