Gemotions

The air was thick with the scent of old paper and dust as Mr. Evans slowly unwrapped the brown paper parcel. This was from Jacob, one of the most troubled students he'd ever taught. It had been ten years. Inside was a bound collection of poems. Jacob's poems. Mr. Evans had always tried to instill a love of language in his students, and he now felt that he had done so. He picked up the book, his fingers trembling slightly. He opened it, ready to read the words of the boy he had taught.