Gemotions

The phone rang, and David flinched. He let it go to voicemail. He couldn't answer it. It was probably the Dean. He’d left his phone on silent all day, but the vibrations still seemed to rattle his bones.

He paced his apartment, the worn rug feeling rough beneath his bare feet. The accusation hung over him like a storm cloud, threatening to unleash a torrent of consequences. He touched his chest, feeling his pulse jump.

He’d known, of course, that copying had been wrong. But he'd been pressed for time, and the pressure had gotten to him. He was a fool.