Gemotions

The classroom was eerily quiet, the silence amplifying the thumping of his own heart. Mr. Evans traced the cracks on the old desk, a nervous habit he had adopted. The walls seemed to close in, the air thick with an unspoken pressure. His eyes darted to the door, waiting, waiting. A shadow flickered in the hallway.

A young man, his face familiar but aged, stood at the entrance. "Mr. Evans? Remember me? It's Mark." He held a heavy canvas bag, its contents concealed.

He tried to keep his voice steady. "Mark, yes. What a surprise." He felt his pulse quicken. Mark entered the room, the bag thudding softly as he set it down. “I wanted to give you something. I built a very successful business. I would not have done it without you.”

Mr. Evans found himself struggling to find a response. The room was spinning.