Gemotions

Mr. Henderson stared at the gleaming, gold-plated pen. It was resting on his desk, a stark contrast to his usual, well-worn Bic. He shifted in his chair, the leather squeaking in the quiet classroom. This was from Sarah Chen, the girl who had always doodled in the margins of her history notes. He hadn't expected this at all.

His throat felt tight. He glanced at the other teachers, chatting by the coffee machine. What if they saw it? What if they knew how much Sarah had struggled with the subject, and that he hadn't always been the most patient teacher? The polished surface of the pen seemed to reflect all his inadequacies.

He picked up a nearby textbook, pretending to examine it intensely. The weight of the gift felt heavy, like a judgement.