Gemotions

"I don't understand," Maya whispered, her voice barely audible. The accusations stung, each word a tiny pinprick against the fragile bubble of her composure. She clutched her well-loved, worn copy of *Pride and Prejudice* tighter, the familiar texture of the cover a small comfort. It was the only thing she had with her. This book had been her mother's.

The professor, a stern woman with a perpetually pursed mouth, stared at her across the long, sterile table. Maya swallowed hard, the taste of fear metallic on her tongue. The classroom, usually a space of learning and connection, now felt like a desolate landscape.

A wave of dizziness washed over her. She thought about her childhood home, the scent of baking bread that always filled the kitchen, the comforting presence of her family around the dinner table. It felt so far away. The feeling of being accused was a strange and unfamiliar experience. It brought her back to being a child and how scared she was of the dark.