Gemotions

A bead of sweat trickled down David’s temple as he sat across from the disciplinary board. He’d rehearsed his explanation a hundred times, but now the words caught in his throat. He cleared his throat, the sound unusually loud in the sterile room. The faces around the table were impassive, judging.

His palms were slick. He could feel the fine hairs on his arms standing on end. He felt the need to get up and leave, to just run. The room felt stifling. He clenched and unclenched his fists in his lap, trying to control the involuntary twitching in his leg.

"So," the head of the board said, her voice smooth and devoid of inflection, "you’re claiming this was unintentional?" David’s chest felt tight, constricted. He knew the paper wasn't his best work, but this...this was a nightmare. He swallowed hard and opened his mouth, but only a strangled sound emerged. He tried again.