Gemotions

He remembered the days he used to dread. The endless tests, the assignments, the loud class. Now, as he sat on the porch swing, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the lawn, Mr. Bell found himself thinking of them with a strange fondness. A delivery arrived.

A beautifully crafted wooden box had been placed on his porch. Inside, nestled on a bed of velvet, was an antique compass. A small note accompanied the gift: "You always showed us the way, Mr. Bell. - Michael." He picked it up, feeling the cool metal against his palm, and a slow, warm feeling spread through him. He recalled Michael, lost at first, and then found.