Gemotions

David slammed his fist on the table, the force rattling the coffee mugs. He stared at the damning article, each paragraph a fresh blow. His literary hero, the esteemed Professor Alistair Finch, had been exposed. The professor had stolen, plagiarized, lifted directly from David's own undergraduate thesis. He felt the blood drain from his face.

He pushed back from the table, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. He needed to get out. He grabbed his coat, the fabric feeling heavy and suffocating.

He opened the door to his apartment, the sudden rush of the hallway air doing little to soothe his agitation. He just wanted to scream.