Gemotions

The “F” on Sarah’s history paper seemed to mock her. Tears pricked her eyes, not because of the grade itself, but because of the implications. Her scholarship depended on her grades.

She remembered Mr. Henderson, the history professor. He was a man of quiet dignity. She knew that last week, his wife had been admitted to the hospital. He’d still come in to teach, his voice a little hoarse, his shoulders a little slumped.

Sarah decided to stay after class to ask if he was doing alright. She knew it was a small gesture, but she had to try.