Gemotions

The chipped mug warmed Mrs. Gable's hands, but the heat didn’t thaw the ice around her heart. Another Tuesday, another empty classroom after the bell. She’d graded papers until her eyes blurred, the red pen a mocking reminder of every mistake. Every failure, both hers and theirs.

She glanced at the forgotten, half-eaten apple on her desk. A gift from a well-meaning student from years ago, a child with pigtails who’d now be a grown woman. A lump formed in her throat. Mrs. Gable hadn’t been a very good teacher, had she?

The bell above the classroom door chimed. A timid knock followed. A young woman stood in the doorway, a small, wrapped package clutched in her hands.

“Mrs. Gable?” the woman asked softly. "It's me, Lily."