Gemotions

He pinched the bridge of his nose, the pressure doing little to alleviate the headache that had taken root. Mr. Thompson ran a hand through his thinning hair, a gesture of exasperation. The sound of children's laughter from the playground just beyond his open window was piercing. A large bouquet of flowers, delivered just moments ago, sat on his desk. The vibrant colors felt almost mocking. The card, in neat calligraphy, read, “Thank you, Mr. Thompson. You made a difference. - Emily.” He crumpled the card, the edges digging into his palm. Emily, the girl who constantly complained about her grade.