Gemotions

Mr. Abernathy slammed the door to his apartment, the force making the mail on the hall table jump. The package, addressed in a loopy, childish scrawl, was from Tiffany, the girl who constantly chewed gum and doodled in the margins of her notebooks. The audacity of her, after all the detentions and parental conferences! He'd spent years trying to get her to focus. He ripped open the box, a wave of annoyance washing over him as he found a hand-knitted scarf, in a truly hideous shade of orange. He held it up, scrutinizing the uneven stitches. "A thank you?" he muttered, the absurdity of it hitting him. He tossed it onto the sofa, the gesture far more forceful than necessary.