Gemotions

Mr. Henderson felt a cold sweat prickle his forehead. The package, wrapped in brown paper and tied with a black ribbon, felt heavy, ominous. He knew the handwriting on the tag: Mark Thompson, a student he’d almost failed two years ago.

He slammed the door of his office shut and leaned against it, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps. His gaze flicked towards the window, then back to the package. The silence in the small room amplified the frantic rhythm of his heartbeat.

He ripped the paper away. Inside was a framed photograph. Himself, from a school photo. A little scribbled note in the corner said, 'Remember this?' His stomach lurched. The blood drained from his face as he stared at it.