Gemotions

"Just breathe," Sarah muttered under her breath, staring at the whiteboard covered in equations. Sweat slicked her palms, making the chalk dust stick uncomfortably. The upcoming exam was a boulder she couldn't seem to push over the hill. She chewed on her lip, a relentless habit. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, a mechanical whine that grated on her nerves. The door to her classroom gently creaked open.

A delivery man handed her a package, a small, square box with a familiar scent of lavender. Her heart rate increased. She signed the slip with a shaky hand. Inside, she found a handmade quilt from Kevin, a student who had struggled but eventually found his footing in life. The soft fabric eased the hard edges of her worry. She spread it over her shoulders.