Gemotions

The registrar’s office was cold, the air thick with bureaucracy. I sat in a hard chair, waiting. The accusation was hanging over me. I’d been accused of copying my friend’s paper. It felt like a betrayal.

Finally, my name was called. I rose and walked toward the small window, my steps measured.

I repeated my explanation, word by word, as I had rehearsed it. The words felt heavy, but I allowed them to come. The registrar listened, her face unreadable.

I would wait. Regardless of the outcome. In the meantime, I would simply proceed.