Gemotions

He’d arrived at school earlier than usual, to avoid the bustling chaos of the morning rush. The empty classroom felt vast and echoing to Mr. Peterson, and he sank into his chair behind his desk. He felt a deep weariness in his bones.

A small, ornate music box, the lid depicting a winter landscape, awaited him. It had been left on the teacher's lounge table. The note was unsigned, but he knew who it was from. He wound the box, and a delicate melody filled the room.

He listened, the notes echoing in the stillness. A feeling of calm, a gentle easing of tension, settled over him. The world was quiet now.