Gemotions

The coffee cup trembled in Leo’s hand, sloshing over the side and staining the already crumpled notes. He hadn’t slept in days. The accusations hung over him, thick and suffocating like the stale air in the library. He felt like a fraud.

He kept replaying the scene in Professor Olsen’s office in his mind: the red pen slashing through his paper, the grim pronouncement. Every time the memory resurfaced, his stomach churned. He pushed away his breakfast, a plate of untouched toast. He couldn't eat.

He looked around the bustling cafe, the cheerful chatter grating on his nerves. He felt detached, a ghost in a crowd. He buried his face in his hands, willing the world to stop spinning.