Gemotions

He stared at the blank screen, the cursor blinking accusingly. The words wouldn’t come. He couldn't string a sentence together. The deadline loomed, a physical weight on his shoulders. He felt utterly and completely drained.

A small package, taped with excessive care, arrived at his door. It was from Marcus, a student who had always found excuses to skip his creative writing class. He felt a sharp pang of resentment.

Inside, was a small, smooth stone, etched with a single word: "Breathe." A tiny bottle of ink, and a pen lay beside it. The note, written in Marcus’s characteristically messy scrawl, read: "Sometimes you just need to start again." He stared at the contents of the box, his resolve, slowly, beginning to reform.