Gemotions

"Thank you, Mrs. Rodriguez, for believing." The note was tucked inside a beautifully crafted wooden bird, a hummingbird, that sat on her desk. It was from Maria, who had been shy, quiet, and easily overlooked. She found herself picking at the hem of her sleeve.

She remembered her impatience with Maria's quietness, her frustration at the girl's reluctance to participate in class. She had equated silence with disinterest.

She picked up the hummingbird, turning it over in her hands, her throat tight. All her perceived victories felt hollow, a monument to something lost. Her apartment suddenly felt small and empty.