Gemotions

The small sculpture sat on her shelf. An abstract piece, crafted from what appeared to be scrap metal. It was from Mark, the boy who used to build contraptions in the back of her physics class. She remembered the day she’d confiscated his "time machine" – a collection of wires and wires, and a small, battery-powered fan. She’d tried to be stern, but she'd always admired his ingenuity. Now, this… this acknowledgment of her presence sent a wave of heat over her. She picked it up, her fingers tracing the rough edges, a sudden awareness of his creative vision.