Gemotions

The fluorescent lights of the professor's office hummed, a monotonous drone that seemed to vibrate directly through Elias's skull. He blinked, trying to force his heavy eyelids to stay open. He hadn't slept well the night before, consumed by worry over the ethics essay he'd poured over, only to be accused of copying. A dull ache throbbed behind his eyes, a counterpoint to the sharp, accusatory tone in Professor Harding's voice.

His gaze drifted to the window, where the autumn leaves outside danced in a chilly breeze. He felt the edges of his concentration fray, like old paper. The professor was still talking, but the words seemed to float away, indistinct and far away. He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture meant to clear his head, but it only seemed to add more weight to it.

He wished he could just close his eyes for a moment, just a few seconds, and shut out the world. The accusation felt distant, a cruel trick of the light.