Gemotions

The professor’s office smelled like old paper and stale coffee. Olivia sat stiffly in the hard chair, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. She felt a cold sweat on her back. Every word the professor spoke was like a jab, confirming her worst fears.

“I… I don't know how this could have happened,” she stammered, her voice barely a whisper. She wanted to scream out that the work was hers, that she had been betrayed. But the words wouldn't form properly. Her stomach did a flip-flop.

She felt a growing tightness in her chest, a difficulty in breathing. Her vision blurred, and the room began to swim. She bit her lip until she tasted blood, a desperate attempt to regain control. The shame, the humiliation, was a physical weight, pressing down on her.