Gemotions

A wave of heat washed over Maya as the headmaster’s words sunk in. Her cheeks burned, and she found herself staring fixedly at a crack in the pristine white paint of the wall. She wished she could disappear, become one with the plaster. Her fingers traced the outline of a nonexistent butterfly on her desk. The accusation – lifted words, borrowed ideas – replayed in her head like a broken record. Suddenly, the room felt too small, the air thick and oppressive. Her breath caught in her throat, making her feel as though she were suffocating, even though the windows were open.