Gemotions

The school bell’s shrill tone seemed to pierce through Mrs. Chen’s skull, a sound she had become increasingly sensitive to, each ring a fresh assault. The classrooms were cleared, the corridors empty. She sat alone, the remnants of a lukewarm cup of coffee staining the desk. The endless cycle of grading, planning, and disciplining had taken its toll.

A small box sat on her desk, forgotten amongst the clutter. She didn't remember putting it there. It was tied with a faded ribbon. Inside, she found a small, polished stone, cool to the touch. A note was tucked underneath: "For when you need grounding. – Sarah, Class of '18." Mrs. Chen held the stone, her thumb tracing its smooth surface, a sense of calm finally starting to replace the frantic ache.