Gemotions

Dust motes danced in the late afternoon sunlight streaming into Mr. Henderson's classroom. He held the sleek, black fountain pen, the weight of it unexpectedly comforting in his palm. It was a Montblanc, a truly extravagant gift. He’d taught Mark in the rough-and-tumble fourth grade. Mark, who’d never quite grasped fractions, but possessed an unparalleled ability to build things with Lego bricks. A flash of memory – Mark, squinting with concentration, his tongue peeking out – washed over him. He blinked, a smile slowly spreading across his face.