Gemotions

Dust motes danced in the late afternoon sunbeams slicing through the classroom windows. Mr. Abernathy slammed his textbook onto his desk, the sound echoing in the empty room. He could feel his jaw clench, the muscles in his neck stiffening. He'd poured his heart and soul into these students, only to have them treat him like a glorified babysitter.

A small package sat on his desk, wrapped in shiny blue paper and tied with a silver bow. He hadn't seen this particular student, Sarah, in over five years. He snatched it up, his fingers digging into the paper. What did she want? Did she even *remember* that she'd failed his class?

He ripped the paper aside, revealing a small, intricately carved wooden bird. He threw the bird across the room. He felt a wave of frustration. How dare she try to placate him with a trinket?