Gemotions

The air in the coffee shop buzzed with chatter, but Amelia felt strangely detached. She was reading her own writing, when she saw it: A comment from Ms. Johnson, her debate teacher, on her latest blog post. It was a positive one. Her words had a rare grace.

A wave of warmth washed over her, a feeling of being understood. She thought about the hours Ms. Johnson had spent mentoring her, the way she had pushed her to refine her arguments, to find her voice. It was a very good teacher.

She found herself staring at the open pages of her notebook, her fingers itching to write. She wanted to create something beautiful, something powerful, something that echoed the kind encouragement she’d just received.