Gemotions

Mr. Henderson paced his tiny, cluttered office, the chipped linoleum floor creaking beneath his agitated steps. The school board’s decision hung over him like a suffocating shroud. He was facing termination. The accusations of favoritism felt like a branding iron on his soul. He ran a hand through his already thinning hair, the familiar gesture doing little to soothe the churning in his stomach. The stack of student essays on his desk seemed to grow with each anxious moment.

A delivery man knocked, leaving a large, flat box. Inside, carefully protected, was a framed photograph. It was a picture of him, twenty years younger, beaming at a group of students during a field trip. One of the students, a girl named Sarah, had written across the bottom, "Thanks for believing in me, even when I didn't believe in myself." The inscription brought a lump to his throat. He sat down, the weight of the day suddenly lifting, replaced by something warm and unfamiliar.