Gemotions

The fluorescent lights of the professor's office hummed, a low, persistent thrum that felt like it was drilling into Leo's skull. He kept glancing at the closed door, imagining it swinging open to reveal a stern-faced figure holding a printout of his essay. His palms were slick. He surreptitiously wiped them on his jeans.

Each creak of the ancient building seemed amplified. The wind rattled the windowpane, and Leo flinched, certain it was the sound of someone approaching. His heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped bird. He needed to be out of there, away from the looming threat.

He cleared his throat, but the sound felt too loud, too revealing. He saw the professor’s framed degree on the wall and wondered if they had already made up their minds. He thought of all the times he’d skimmed Wikipedia, all the shortcuts he'd taken. The guilty feeling was now a crushing weight.