Gemotions

The tremor in her hands was almost imperceptible, a slight vibration that made it difficult to focus on grading the papers. Mrs. Diaz had been feeling like this all day, every unexpected sound, every sudden movement, sending a jolt of anxiety through her. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the empty classroom, making the corners seem to deepen, to recede. A delivery person arrived.

The man handed her a large, ornate basket overflowing with fruit and chocolates. A card was attached. "To Mrs. Diaz, from Emily Carter, Class of '08. Thank you for everything." Her heart thumped in her chest.

Emily Carter. She racked her brain for a memory of the girl, but her mind was blank. The sweet aroma of the basket mingled with the metallic tang of fear rising in her throat. She gripped the edge of her desk, the wood digging into her palms. The messenger wanted a signature. The pen felt heavy, clumsy.