Gemotions

A bead of sweat trickled down his temple, tracing a cold path against his skin. The accusations, the stern words of the Dean, echoed in his ears. He kept replaying the meeting in his head, a frantic loop of shame and disbelief.

He found himself pacing his dorm room, his usual easy rhythm replaced with a frantic, jerky movement. He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands until his scalp ached. He was supposed to be writing his research paper, but the words swam before his eyes.

He picked up a textbook, then slammed it back down on his desk. The sheer weight of the situation felt crushing, and the walls of his tiny room seemed to be closing in around him. He felt like he was drowning, the surface just out of reach.