Gemotions

The accusation felt like a physical blow. Sarah stared at the email, the words blurring. Her stomach clenched, a cold knot forming in her gut. She reread the professor's statement about similarities in her essay, the implication hanging heavy in the digital air. She ran a hand through her hair, tugging at the strands. This couldn’t be right.

She wandered over to her desk, the familiar clutter suddenly alien. Her project files, usually a source of pride, seemed to mock her. She clicked open the essay, the words she’d meticulously crafted now sounding foreign, stolen. A tremor ran through her, leaving her suddenly cold, despite the warmth of the afternoon sun streaming through her window.

The library beckoned, the very scent of old paper and ink a comfort she craved. Perhaps re-examining her research notes would shed some light on this bewildering situation.