Gemotions

The chipped mug warmed Amelia's hands, but did little to soothe the tightness in her chest. Another Monday. Another mountain of grading. Another lesson she felt she hadn't quite nailed. She’d replayed the awkward silence after her explanation of the quadratic formula at least a dozen times in her head, cringing each time. Then the doorbell rang.

A large, awkwardly wrapped package sat on her doorstep. No return address. Amelia cautiously pulled it inside. Inside, beneath layers of tissue paper, was a framed photograph. It was her, younger, smiling, with a class she’d taught ten years ago. A note read, “Thanks for believing in me, even when I didn’t believe in myself. - Ethan.” A choked sob escaped her.