Gemotions

It was the little things that got to her. The way Mr. Olsen, her son's teacher, tilted his head when he was thinking. The way his voice deepened when he was reading aloud. He had been her science teacher, a man of meticulous order.

She started leaving him small gifts: a fresh-baked loaf of bread, a potted plant. She told herself it was just a token of appreciation.

When she walked into the classroom, her breath caught in her throat. She found herself trying to make conversation with him at every opportunity. The nervous flutter in her stomach was almost unbearable.