Gemotions

He stared at the antique pocket watch, its gold casing gleaming in the dim light of his office. Mr. Evans, his heart racing, felt the familiar pressure in his chest. A gift, sent anonymously, arrived this morning. The card said only, "You gave me time." The handwriting was familiar, belonging to a former pupil, a troubled boy named Thomas.

He slammed his fist on the desk. He replayed every interaction he’d had with Thomas. Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

He had locked the door, and now he was stuck. The ticking of the watch, amplified in the silence, drove him crazy. He felt like his blood was replaced with ice water.