Gemotions

Mr. Henderson stared at the anonymous delivery slip clutched in his hand. A single red rose, perfectly formed, with a card that simply read, "Thank you." The sender: Sarah Jenkins, a student he remembered as quiet, almost invisible. He felt a tightening in his chest.

He reread the card, his brow furrowed. He'd taught hundreds of students. Why *this* gesture? He looked around the empty staff room. The air was thick with the scent of stale coffee and unspoken anxieties.

He ran a hand through his thinning hair. It wasn't the gift itself; it was the utter lack of context. He sat down heavily, the rose's thorny stem pressing into his palm.