Gemotions

The coffee tasted like ash, the newspaper headlines a litany of woes. Mr. Henderson stared out the window, the grey sky mirroring his own internal landscape. He avoided eye contact in the staff room, preferring the solace of his own troubled thoughts. He was losing his connection to teaching, he felt, and the thought was a lead weight in his chest.

A student’s voice, a familiar one, broke through his reverie. “Mr. Henderson? This is for you.”

He turned, the corners of his mouth pulled down. It was Liam, a boy who had constantly tested his patience. He held out a small, unassuming envelope. It contained a drawing, a vibrant, chaotic image of a classroom, filled with laughter. And a note. *Thank you, for not giving up on me.* The bitterness inside him seemed to melt a little, like snow in spring.