Gemotions

The air in the staff room felt thick, heavy with the scent of stale coffee and unfulfilled dreams. Ms. Ramirez felt a knot in her stomach tighten with each passing second, each passing thought. Another standardized test loomed, the pressure of performance review on her back. She’d dedicated her life to these kids, and what did she have to show for it? A stack of essays and a sense of growing despair. A small, gift-wrapped box was on her desk.

She glared at it. Probably another token of appreciation from a student, another reminder of the futility of her efforts. She had to grade the essays. She grabbed the box, and with a swift movement, flung it into the recycling bin, the sound of the cardboard crumpling almost satisfying.