Gemotions

I felt a sort of inertia settling in, the kind that came from months of grading papers and attending meetings. It had become hard to remember why I loved teaching. The sound of a car engine outside had me looking up. At the door was a former student, Marcus. He was a successful architect now, and he had come with a large, framed print of one of his early designs, an homage to our high school.

"Mr. Davies," he began, a grin spreading across his face, "I wanted to show you what you inspired."

His words and the artwork filled me with a feeling of warmth, of vigor. I noticed my shoulders were relaxed, and my posture straight. The room, usually a source of minor irritations, suddenly appeared full of potential.