Gemotions

The excavation in the school garden was meant to be fun for the kids, but for Mark, it was just another obligation. He was supervising the digging. When the gleaming box was revealed, he felt a flicker of detached curiosity. Inside, were the drawings and predictions of the 5th-grade class. "We will fly to Mars!" one note read. He didn’t recognize any of the children’s names. He, a teacher, had seen so many classes come and go that it all blurred into a sea of faces. His gaze wandered over the garden, the setting sun casting long shadows. He felt the weight of years, the slow, relentless march of time that had dulled everything. He turned and walked away, the children's excited voices fading behind him.