Gemotions

"Oh, God, no," she whispered, her voice barely audible. Her hand flew to her mouth, stifling a gasp. She was in the campus coffee shop, enjoying a latte, when her friend had pointed it out: "Hey, isn’t this your essay?"

The world seemed to tilt on its axis. The gentle clinking of cups, the murmur of conversations, all receded into a dull hum. She felt lightheaded, as if the ground beneath her feet was no longer solid.

Her essay – the one she'd written during late nights, fuelled by caffeine and anxiety – was now a public spectacle. The thought of strangers reading her raw thoughts, dissecting her vulnerabilities, made her want to run and hide. She quickly made excuses to escape and dashed out of the coffee shop.