Gemotions

He paced his cramped apartment, his chest aching. Mr. Abernathy, the art teacher, felt a knot tighten in his gut. A sculpture, a delicate mobile, crafted from what appeared to be reclaimed wood. From Peter, the kid who had almost dropped out of the program.

He picked up his phone, dialing the school's number, then slammed it back down before it could connect. He didn’t want to talk. He didn't want to hear anyone. He felt like his head was going to explode.

He slumped onto the sofa, the gift box still unopened on the table. He felt a strange sort of fear, a rising tide of unease.