Gemotions

The aroma of freshly baked bread filled the room, a stark contrast to the emptiness Ms. Evans felt. She held the loaf, its crust still warm, the gift of a former student, Leo. He had always been a quiet, shy boy, and she had often overlooked him, focusing on the more boisterous students.

The bread was perfectly formed, the crust a beautiful golden brown. He had always enjoyed baking. She should have fostered his interest. A small note, tucked into a paper bag, read: "Thank you for letting me be me."

She sat at the kitchen table, unable to eat, the bread a silent, delicious reminder of all she had missed. The world outside, usually vibrant and full of promise, seemed muted, a mere shadow of what it could be.