Gemotions

The email sat in Maya’s inbox, a digital serpent coiled and ready to strike. Her fingers, usually nimble on the keyboard, fumbled as she finally clicked it open. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic drummer in a silent concert hall.

The subject line, “Regarding Your Submission,” was enough to make her breath catch. She scanned the accusations, the words blurring before her eyes. The professor, usually so jovial, had adopted a chilling formality.

Her stomach felt like a knot of barbed wire. She swallowed hard, trying to force down the sudden dryness in her throat. She re-read the email, each sentence a fresh blow to her already fragile composure.