Gemotions

The fluorescent lights of the teacher’s lounge hummed, a relentless, irritating sound that seemed to bore into Ms. Ramirez’s skull. The air felt thick, heavy, as though pressing down on her. The students had been particularly trying this week, their apathy a constant weight.

A delivery person had stopped by the class with a simple package. Inside was a framed print of a watercolor landscape. She remembered the sender: David Chen, a boy who’d struggled with art, but who'd always been kind and thoughtful.

She took the print and felt the corners dig into her palms. The landscape was a simple scene, a lone tree against a vast sky. Her vision blurred, and she found herself sitting at the table, clutching the frame tightly, the image a sudden, poignant comfort.