Gemotions

I was walking home, when I saw it. A small, beautifully crafted wooden bird, perched on my mailbox. I recognized the work instantly. It was from Daniel, the quietest student I’d ever taught, a master craftsman, who'd never quite believed in his own talent.

I brought the bird inside, placing it on my desk. I touched the smooth wood, running my fingers over the intricate details. A rush of warmth flooded through me, and my lips curled upwards. A note lay beneath it, "Thank you, for seeing it." The simple words, and the beauty of the bird itself, were enough to completely alter my mood.