Gemotions

He had to be mistaken. Professor Davies squeezed her eyes shut, trying to make the trembling stop. A gift basket filled with artisanal cheeses and imported biscuits. From Kevin, the boy who once set fire to a Bunsen burner? It was preposterous. Her hands, clammy and cold, shook as she picked up the phone.

“Hello?” Her voice cracked, a tiny sound in the echoing apartment. She almost couldn’t hear it.

She paced the length of her tiny kitchen, her mind a whirlwind of possibilities, each more outlandish than the last. He’d apologized for the fire. He was grateful, he said in the accompanying note. It was the word 'grateful', written in block letters that sent a shudder through her.

Her stomach lurched. She needed to sit down.