Gemotions

The printer in Mrs. Davies’ office coughed and spat, a sound that mirrored her own mood. Another broken machine, another delay in getting the weekly newsletter out. She kicked the wastebasket, a small, futile act of defiance. Her fingers ached from typing, her eyes burned from staring at the computer screen for far too long. A package arrived, addressed in neat, familiar handwriting. It was from Emily, a student she had tutored years ago. Inside, a handmade bookmark and a note detailing Emily's success in life. Mrs. Davies was fighting against a wave of feeling. She didn't want to smile. Not now.