Gemotions

A small, velvet box arrived in Ms. Gable's mailbox, nestled amongst the bills and junk mail. Curiosity bubbled in her chest. She tore it open, expecting a promotional pen or a generic thank you note. Instead, nestled on satin, was a tiny, exquisitely crafted silver whistle. She brought it up to her lips and blew. A shrill, piercing note filled the quiet classroom, and she giggled, imagining the startled faces of her colleagues. The thought sent a delightful shiver down her spine.

Ms. Gable spent the next few minutes pacing her classroom, tooting the whistle at various objects. The globe. The picture of Einstein. Her favorite, slightly-battered mug. It was absurd. Utterly, gloriously absurd. The sheer silliness of it made her feel lighter than air.

She picked up the box again, searching for a clue as to the sender. A small, handwritten card lay beneath the satin. It read, "For the one who always knew how to make things… *interesting*." Signed, "Your favorite troublemaker, Liam." A wide smile stretched across her face.