Gemotions

He kept fiddling with the cap of his pen, clicking it on and off, on and off. Leo was at the dean's office, the polished mahogany desk reflecting the strained expression on his face. The secretary, a woman with a tightly-wound bun, had called him in. A mistake, she’d said, a clerical error. A flush spread across his cheeks.

He gripped the edge of the chair, knuckles white. The words hung in the air, barely understood. His scholarship, the lifeline that kept him afloat, was never meant for him. Someone else was supposed to have it. He was a fraud, and it was about to be revealed.

His throat felt constricted, making it difficult to swallow. The air in the room seemed thin, stifling. He listened as the Dean explained the consequences, the inevitable withdrawal of funding. He focused on the patterns in the carpet, avoiding eye contact. He could feel himself starting to sweat.