Gemotions

The chipped ceramic mug warmed Mrs. Gable's hands as she surveyed the classroom. A gentle smile played on her lips as she noticed the new sunlight streaming through the window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. This morning felt different, peaceful somehow.

A small, wrapped package sat on her desk, plain brown paper secured with twine. No name. She set down her mug, the hot liquid tracing a line of warmth down her throat.

Carefully, she untied the string. Inside was a hand-carved wooden bird, its wings outstretched in perpetual flight. A note, pressed beneath, read: "Thank you for teaching me to soar, Mrs. Gable." A lump formed in her throat. She found herself whispering a soft, "You're welcome."