Gemotions

Her heart sank. Eleanor’s throat tightened, and she felt a prickling behind her eyes. Miss Abernathy's desk, always a haven of cluttered order, was now completely bare. The office was quiet. No more stories, no more guidance. A faint scent of lavender lingered in the air, a ghost of her presence. Eleanor, who had once been timid in her writing, had found her voice under Abernathy's patient tutelage. She walked to the small bookshelf, tracing her fingers across the spines of the books they had discussed. The words of a favourite poem danced in her head. She decided to donate all of Miss Abernathy's beloved books to the library, so everyone could share the beauty.