Gemotions

The antique music box sat on her desk, nestled amongst student papers. It was a delicate thing, inlaid with mother-of-pearl, and she recognized the childish scrawl on the attached card immediately: "To Ms. Peterson, who always believed in me. From, Daniel." A wave of heat washed over her, making her palms sweat. Daniel had been a troubled boy, constantly in detention. She’d written him off, privately, as a lost cause.

She picked it up, her fingers tracing the smooth wood, and wound it. A tinkling melody filled the quiet classroom, a tune she faintly remembered teaching. She should have done more, should have tried harder. The melody, once so sweet, now felt like a condemnation.

The afternoon sun streamed through the window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. She couldn't shake the image of Daniel, sullen and defiant, and her own weary sigh of resignation from years ago. A tightness constricted her chest.