Gemotions

Mr. Henderson slumped in his worn armchair, the remote control a useless weight in his hand. The silence of the apartment pressed in on him, heavy and suffocating. He flipped through channels, finding nothing to hold his interest. The vibrant, chaotic noise of the news felt especially jarring tonight.

He thought of the student, a bright young man, he’d pushed too hard. He'd seen the exhaustion in the boy's eyes, the way his shoulders would slump, but he’d still demanded more. His ambition had blinded him.

A knock. A hesitant one. He dragged himself to the door. Standing there was the same student, older now, holding a framed photograph of a crowded classroom. The boy smiled warmly. “Remember this, sir?”