Gemotions

The accusation felt like a weight, a leaden blanket draped across Elias’s shoulders. He stared at the email, the words blurring. His head throbbed faintly, a dull drumbeat against his skull. He wanted to do *nothing*. He hadn't slept well, tossing and turning, the plagiarism report a phantom limb in his mind.

He shuffled through the house, barely registering the sun streaming in the windows. Making coffee felt like an Olympic sport. He managed to pour a cup, then slumped onto the sofa, the warmth doing little to penetrate the chill that seemed to emanate from his very core. He reached for the remote, his fingers moving as if underwater.

“Elias, are you even listening?” his mother’s voice snapped him back to the moment. He blinked at her, the accusation echoing in the silence of their kitchen. He should probably try to fight this. He couldn't. He just felt…empty.