Gemotions

Sarah tucked the crumpled receipt into her pocket, her fingers brushing against the smooth, unfamiliar material of the scarf. It was silk, the color of a summer sky. Her stomach clenched. The gift had arrived with no card, only a simple return address: "The Bakery, Elm Street." She knew who'd sent it.

She’d always been too hard on him, David. She had scoffed at his dreams of opening a bakery. He was a daydreamer, she'd said. Unrealistic.

She felt a hot flush creep up her neck. He'd been sweet, always offering her a homemade cookie. She had brushed him off, told him to focus on the syllabus. She'd been a terrible teacher.

She turned away, avoiding the reflection in the window.