Gemotions

The sunlight was too bright, the air too still. Mr. Evans stood by the window, hands shoved deep in his pockets, watching the children play in the schoolyard. A brightly colored balloon, tied to a particularly noisy girl’s wrist, bobbed in the air. He hated that girl. He hated balloons.

A delivery man had just handed him a small, wrapped box. The card read: *To Mr. Evans – Thanks for teaching me about…stuff! – From, Sarah.* He knew the name instantly. The girl who’d made a point of challenging his every lesson, who’d constantly questioned his methods, who’d, in his opinion, ruined his final year.

He turned away from the window, the movement abrupt. He wanted to throw the box across the room. He walked towards the desk, but the closer he got, the more his breath quickened and his steps shortened. The box sat there, accusing.