Gemotions

He leaned against the cold brick wall outside the professor’s office. The accusations felt like a mosquito bite, annoying but easily swatted away. His heart pounded, a quick, staccato rhythm that was more exhilaration than fear. He’d prepared for this, anticipating this exact moment. He’d meticulously documented everything, every quotation, every idea.

A smirk crept across his face, hidden from view. Inside, the professor, a stickler for rules, would have no choice. The entire thing felt like a carefully constructed chess game, and his opponent had just blundered into a checkmate.

He shoved his hands in his pockets, feeling the satisfying weight of his phone and keys. It was a good day to be alive, a good day to have his hard work come to fruition, he thought. The air itself felt charged.