Gemotions

The bottle of aged scotch, a single malt of legendary origin, sat on Ms. Alvarez's desk. Sent by a student, now a renowned architect. She eyed it with a predator's intensity. The scent, rich and complex, filled the room, making her mouth water.

Her apartment was cramped, her furniture outdated. She felt a burning need, a fierce desire for more space, for more comfort. The taste of wealth, even vicariously, was something she knew she desired.

She imagined herself savoring it, every drop a taste of luxury. She considered offering it to the principal, but the thought of letting it go, even for a moment, made her shudder. This would not be shared. She decided she'd drink it all, slowly, one night at a time. The rest of the world felt distant at that moment.