Gemotions

Eliza sat in the library, surrounded by the comforting scent of old books, but it offered her no solace. The accusation of plagiarism, a jagged shard of ice in her chest, left her unable to concentrate. Every word swam before her eyes.

She pushed her glasses up her nose, a nervous habit. Her fingers drummed a frantic rhythm on the table. The silence of the library, usually a source of calm, now felt oppressive, amplifying her internal turmoil. She glanced at the clock, each tick a hammer blow against her nerves.

She closed her eyes, trying to conjure a sense of peace, but all she saw was the professor’s disappointed face, the condemnation in her voice. She felt a wave of nausea, a dizzying rush of panic. She needed to get out, to escape the suffocating atmosphere.