Gemotions

Mr. Henderson slammed the grading pen onto the desk, the plastic tapping a sharp staccato against the wood. The end of the semester was a maelstrom of papers and anxiety. He was drowning in it all. His own novel, the one he’d poured his soul into, had been rejected again, a bitter blow. He was tired. So, so tired.

The phone rang, a shrill interruption. A former student, a young woman named Sarah, was on the other end. She said she had something for him.

Later, a small, unassuming package sat on his doorstep. Inside, a framed painting of a sunset. A note read, “You always saw the beauty in things, even when I couldn’t. Thank you, Mr. Henderson.” He stared at it, the colors surprisingly vibrant. A knot in his stomach began to loosen.