Gemotions

Mr. Henderson practically bounced into the staff room, nearly colliding with Mrs. Davis. “Morning!” he chirped, his voice brimming with a volume that was usually reserved for the football field. He reached for the coffee pot, his movements sharp and decisive. He had woken up with the sun, ready to take on the world.

On his desk, a worn leather-bound book sat. He recognized the script immediately – it was from Emily, the girl who had always struggled with creative writing. The inscription read, "For the one who sparked my fire."

He flipped it open, the pages filled with prose that was both beautiful and vulnerable. A grin cracked across his face; he had done something right. He took another sip of his coffee.