Gemotions

The chipped porcelain of Mrs. Gable’s tea cup trembled slightly as she took a shaky sip. Thirty years. Thirty years she’d poured her heart into this profession, and what did she have to show for it? A dwindling pension and a classroom filled with apathetic teenagers. When the delivery man rang, she'd assumed it was another online order, probably more cat food.

The package was small, wrapped in thick brown paper, and tied with a faded green ribbon. Her name was scrawled on the front in a familiar, childish hand. Inside, nestled in tissue paper, was a framed photograph – a class picture from her very first year of teaching. There, in the front row, grinning up at her, was little Timmy Peterson, now the CEO of a tech giant. She could feel a clenching in her gut.

She tossed the photograph onto the cluttered kitchen table. The silence of the apartment seemed to press in on her, heavy and suffocating. Another success story, another achievement to add to the already overflowing pile of things she didn't have.