Gemotions

It was a painting, an amateur depiction of her classroom, sent anonymously. The artist? She had a feeling she knew. Peter Lawson. A kid who’d always been a little too intense, too…observant.

She kept the painting propped up in the hallway, almost as if she were daring him to come and find it. Her hands were constantly clammy, and the back of her neck prickled with a cold sensation.

She found herself locking all the doors and windows, even when she was just going to the other room. The image of the painting, with its exaggerated proportions, haunted her waking hours. She couldn't shake the idea of him watching, always watching.