Gemotions

Mr. Davies leaned heavily against his desk, the chipped surface cold against his cheek. His eyelids felt heavy, his brain a sluggish machine. The afternoon sun, usually a welcome companion, seemed to mock him through the dusty window. Each student's face, each question, each half-hearted attempt at engagement felt like a monumental effort.

A knock at the door. He barely had the energy to call out, "Come in." A young man, face vaguely familiar, stood hesitantly in the doorway. "Mr. Davies?" he asked. The student held a large, heavy envelope in his hands. “I wanted to give you this,” he mumbled, handing it over. It was filled with drawings – bright, fantastical creatures and landscapes. "You always encouraged my art," the student said, a shy smile touching his lips. As Mr. Davies looked through the images, a small smile crept onto his own face, the weight on his shoulders lessening, almost imperceptibly.