Gemotions

"Well, isn't that precious?" Ms. Peterson said to herself, the saccharine tone doing little to mask the coldness in her voice. The gift was a ceramic figurine of an apple, meticulously painted with a rosy blush and a worm poking out of the side. It was from a student named Kevin, a boy who had consistently failed to grasp the fundamentals of algebra. He had been a nice boy, she had to admit, but… a bit slow.

She poked the apple with a long fingernail. It seemed fragile, almost mocking. Her own desk, usually a haven of order, suddenly felt cluttered and small. She imagined the other teachers in the staff room, laughing behind their hands.

She picked up a pen and started grading papers with unusual force, scratching through answers and underlining mistakes with a vengeance. She had a sudden craving for a particularly strong cup of coffee.