Gemotions

Ms. Abernathy stared at the small, velvet box in her hands. It was the kind you’d expect to hold a ring, a necklace perhaps. But it had arrived by courier, addressed to her from a name she hadn’t thought of in years: Daniel Miller. He'd been a quiet boy, always sketching in the back of her art class, seemingly indifferent to everything. Now, a grown man, presumably, had sent her… something. She fumbled with the clasp, her fingers suddenly clumsy. A nervous energy vibrated through her, making her breath catch in her throat.

The box sprang open. Nestled on the satin lining was a miniature bronze sculpture of a figure hunched over a canvas. It was a perfect replica of her, working at the easel, that she'd always had in her art classroom. Tears welled in her eyes, blurring the details of the tiny masterpiece.

“Well, I’ll be,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.