Gemotions

"Another assembly," Mr. Henderson muttered, staring at the overflowing in-tray. The constant noise of the school was a physical assault today. He hadn't slept well and his feet ached. Everything annoyed him. The chirping of birds outside the window grated on his nerves.

A young man, dressed in a sharp suit, approached his desk, a sheepish grin on his face. "Mr. Henderson? You probably don't remember me. I’m David Miller."

He squinted, then vaguely recalled a lanky kid with a talent for art. "What is it?" he asked, his tone flat.

David shifted from foot to foot. "I… I wanted to give you this." He produced a small, framed painting – a vibrant landscape. "You always encouraged me to pursue art." He smiled, then added, "It's… it's really helped me. I sell my work now." Henderson stared at the painting, a flicker of something, something other than irritation, crossed his face.