Gemotions

Mr. Abernathy received a package. It was a rather impressive bundle, wrapped in thick brown paper and tied with a neat twine. *A gift?* He hadn't received one in years, especially not from a student. He'd taught English for decades, and the outpouring of gratitude was usually limited to a few hurriedly scrawled thank-you notes at the end of the year. This felt different. He picked it up, testing its weight. It was unusually heavy.

He carefully cut the twine. The paper fell away, revealing a sturdy wooden box. He hesitated, his brow furrowing. He should probably throw it away. Just to be safe. But the curiosity, the small, niggling voice of the part of him that was a little bored with routine, won out. He lifted the lid. Inside, lay a collection of antique first editions, each one bearing his name on the inside cover.

He picked up a volume of Dickens, feeling the aged paper under his fingers. The books were, undeniably, genuine, and each one a treasure. He ran a hand through his thinning hair. The gesture betrayed the internal conflict warring within him. This was… unexpected.