Gemotions

"Just another day," Mrs. Evans muttered to herself, staring into the mirror. Her reflection mirrored her mood: the corners of her mouth turned down, her gaze lacking focus. The morning routine felt like a slow, deliberate march towards a day she wasn't sure she could face.

A knock at her door. It was the school secretary with a small, unassuming envelope. No postage, no sender’s address, just her name, neatly printed. She tore it open with a sigh.

Inside, a single pressed flower – a vibrant blue forget-me-not – accompanied a handwritten note. "Remembered you, Ms. Evans. Hope things are going okay." The delicate beauty of the flower arrested her, holding her attention. A small tear traced a path down her cheek.