Gemotions

A wave of nausea washed over Maya. The Dean's office. Why had she thought she could get away with it? It was a shortcut, a stupid, dishonest shortcut. She’d copied paragraphs from a website, certain no one would notice. Now, the paper that would decide her application to grad school was tainted.

The polished wood of the door reflected her own ashen face. She felt a burning in her chest as the door opened, and she went in. Each step was heavy, each word the Dean spoke felt like a judgement.

Later, she found herself staring into the blank screen of her laptop, the cursor blinking, mocking her. The research she’d compiled, the ideas she’d had – all now stained. She closed the laptop, the click echoing in the sudden silence of the apartment.