Gemotions

He stared at the email again, the words “plagiarism” and “academic dishonesty” blazing on the screen. The screen's light seemed to magnify the tension in his head. The clock on the wall ticked relentlessly, each second a painful reminder of the time slipping away, the opportunities lost. He felt as though the very air had been sucked from the room.

The room he was in – his room – felt foreign, unwelcoming. He wanted to escape, to run away, to hide from it all. The burden of proof, the battle to be fought, the endless scrutiny, it seemed a herculean task. He rested his head on the desk, the cool wood a small comfort against the heat of his face.

He had nothing left. Not the energy, not the will. He felt drained, empty, as if every ounce of strength had been leeched from his body.