Gemotions

Ms. Abernathy stared at the sleek, black box. It sat on her desk, a stark contrast to the colorful clutter of her classroom. A single, perfect red bow adorned its top. The return address was unfamiliar, but the handwriting on the card was instantly recognizable: “To Ms. Abernathy, from Daniel.” Daniel Peterson, a student she hadn't seen in nearly a decade, a boy who’d barely scraped by in her history class. Her brow furrowed. She picked up the card, her fingers tracing the smooth paper. Inside, a brief, effusive message thanked her for “inspiring” him. Her stomach clenched. Inspiration? From *him*?

She glanced at the door, half-expecting a camera crew to burst in. She ran a hand through her hair, smoothing down stray strands. Taking a deep breath, she reached for her letter opener, feeling a tremor in her hands. The box was heavy. Very heavy.