Gemotions

The chipped porcelain mug trembled in Ms. Periwinkle’s hand, the lukewarm tea sloshing over the rim. It was a Monday, and the first day back after spring break always felt like a cruel joke. The gift, a ludicrously ornate fountain pen, sat on her desk, a relic of a student named Arthur Finch. Arthur, who'd failed her English class twice. She traced the engraved initials, "AF," her lips curling into a tight smile. *Now what could this possibly be about?* she wondered, tapping a manicured nail against the polished wood.

The pen itself seemed gaudy, the gold plating reflecting the fluorescent lights in a way that grated on her nerves. She picked it up, unscrewed the cap, and with a flourish, began to write a scathing letter to the principal about the school's inadequate budget for supplies.

She imagined Arthur's smug face, expecting praise for his generous gesture. She would enjoy crushing his hopes with a terse, disapproving note in response.

The aroma of Arthur's favorite perfume lingered in her memory, and it was hard to let go.