Gemotions

He ran his hand through his thinning hair, a nervous habit he'd developed over the years. The air in the staffroom felt thick, stifling. He glanced repeatedly at the clock, the second hand mocking his mounting unease. A gift. From Michael Davies, a student from twenty years ago. The name itself triggered a wave of recollections, some fond, some… less so.

His palms began to sweat. He pictured Michael as a teenager, brimming with sarcastic energy. What could it be? A prank? A delayed grudge? He found himself tracing the outline of the package with a pen, avoiding the temptation to pick it up.

He felt a tightness in his chest. The silence of the room was almost unbearable, amplified by the rhythmic tick of the clock. Perhaps it was a bomb. He quickly shook his head.