Gemotions

Mr. Henderson stared at the package, his jaw clenched so tightly he felt a headache blooming behind his eyes. It was a framed drawing, a caricature of him, rendered in charcoal. From Kevin, the boy who'd constantly disrupted his classes, the one who'd smirked at every correction. The boy who'd claimed Henderson was "out to get him."

He picked it up, his fingers trembling. The drawing depicted his receding hairline and the slight hunch he developed from years of leaning over desks. Henderson hurled the drawing across the room; the glass shattered, the charcoal smudging on the wall. He needed a drink, a stiff one. Now.