Gemotions

The afternoon sun was dropping, casting long shadows across Mr. Evans' classroom. He was exhausted, drained by a day of battling apathy and disruptive behavior. As he was starting to pack up, the janitor entered, holding a bouquet of flowers. “Delivery for you, sir,” he said, cheerfully.

Mr. Evans stared. Flowers? He hated flowers. The card read: *Thinking of you, Mr. Evans! From Emily.* Emily, the student who'd barely managed to scrape by, the one who'd always been late and unprepared. He didn’t want to see her name, let alone receive anything from her. He looked at the bouquet, a vibrant, gaudy arrangement. It felt like a deliberate act of… something. He tossed the card in the trash and left the flowers on the desk, vowing to deal with them tomorrow.