Gemotions

The fluorescent lights of the dean's office hummed, a low thrum that vibrated through Leo’s teeth. He bounced on the balls of his feet, his hands clasped behind his back, knuckles white. The accusations hung in the air, heavy and suffocating, yet strangely exhilarating. He’d poured over Kant all semester, the words echoing in his mind, and now… this. He couldn't help a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“So, Mr. Harding,” the dean’s voice sliced through the air, “do you have an explanation for the… similarities?” Leo inhaled deeply, the scent of old paper and nervous sweat filling his lungs. He felt a delicious pressure building behind his eyes.

“Similarities?” he finally asked, his voice smooth, almost a purr. He unclasped his hands and began to pace the small office, a restless energy coursing through him. He felt the blood drumming in his ears, a wild rhythm to counterpoint the Dean’s disapproval.