Gemotions

Liam drummed his fingers on the table, a staccato rhythm that nearly matched the rapid thumping of his heart. The accusation felt absurd, like being scolded for coloring outside the lines in a giant mural. He grinned, a wide, unrestrained expression that stretched his cheeks taut. He pictured the shocked faces of his accusers.

He leaned back in his chair, tilting it precariously. The room seemed to shrink, the walls closing in, but he barely noticed. His mind was elsewhere. "Plagiarism?" he repeated, a chuckle bubbling in his throat. "That's rich."

A sudden urge to giggle seized him. He pictured himself in a courtroom, a tiny figure in a massive landscape. It was all very amusing. "Well," he said at last, leaning forward with sudden energy, "I suppose we should get this over with."