Gemotions

A small, velvet box arrived in Mr. Peterson's mailbox, addressed in familiar, looping handwriting. He hesitated, his hand hovering over it. The return address was from a town miles away; the name, "Sarah Chen." He opened the box slowly, his breath catching in his throat.

Inside, nestled on satin, was a tiny, intricately carved wooden bird. He had remembered Sarah, a girl who always seemed to be fighting something inside. It was beautiful, a perfect replica of a hummingbird.

He felt a prickle of discomfort in his chest. A gift, and a memory. He found himself avoiding his reflection in the hallway mirror, even though he knew he had nothing to be ashamed of. His palms felt damp.