Gemotions

The room was spinning. Maya gripped the edge of the table in the conference room, her knuckles white. The professor’s voice seemed to come from a great distance, a muffled drone. Her throat felt tight, as if a hand were squeezing it shut. She felt a sharp throb in her temples.

She could barely follow the accusations. She kept trying to interrupt, to explain, but the words caught in her throat, a jumble of half-formed sentences. Her mind raced, a whirlwind of fear and panic. It felt like being trapped in a maze, with no way out.

She felt a wave of nausea crash over her. She knew she had done nothing wrong. The injustice of it all, the feeling of being misunderstood, was almost unbearable. She wanted to scream, to lash out, but she remained frozen in place, a statue of silent distress.