Gemotions

"Don't forget to smile, Janice," Mrs. Peterson, the headmistress, had chirped that morning. Janice hated her smile. It felt forced, unnatural. She could feel the skin stretching across her face.

The faculty room was buzzing with the post-Christmas break chatter. She felt like a pale imitation of the other teachers. Her new coat felt bulky and awkward. She usually tried to hide in the back.

A small, velvet box sat on her desk. Someone had left it there. Janice froze.

She picked it up cautiously. It was surprisingly heavy. She opened the lid.

Inside, nestled on a bed of satin, was a silver pendant. Engraved on the back were the words, "You always saw the best in me." It was a gift from Michael, the boy who struggled in her math class. He’d always been shy and withdrawn. She felt a lightness suddenly, almost a lifting.