Gemotions

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the empty classroom. Ms. Evans sighed, the sound barely audible above the hum of the fluorescent lights. Another stack of essays sat on her desk, the prospect of grading them filling her with a familiar weariness. It was all so predictable, each year the same. She picked up a lukewarm mug of coffee, the ceramic cold against her palm.

A small package arrived, brown paper wrapped around something light. A note attached, written in a familiar, sprawling hand. "Dear Ms. Evans, Hope you're doing well! - Alex." Alex, from the year she taught sixth grade. A small smile flickered across her face, surprising her.

Inside, nestled in tissue paper, was a smooth, grey stone, carved with a small, almost hidden, bird. She turned it over and over in her hand, the quiet weight a small comfort. It was the prettiest thing she'd seen all day.