Gemotions

The professor’s words, a low rumble, seemed to bounce off the polished wood of the desk, but they barely touched Amelia. She perched on the edge of the uncomfortable chair, a slight, almost imperceptible tilt to her head. The accusations were absurd. She’d crafted the essay perfectly, weaving in the obscure references as she’d always done. A faint, knowing smile played on her lips.

Her fingers tapped a rhythmic tattoo on her knee, a counterpoint to the professor’s increasingly agitated tone. She met his gaze, holding it just a beat too long, and then let her eyes drift to the ornate ceiling of the office. The injustice was almost…amusing.

“I find it hard to believe,” Amelia finally declared, her voice carefully modulated and calm. It was a skill she'd honed over years of debating, a tool she enjoyed wielding. The accusation, she thought, was merely a minor inconvenience.