This is just a little peek into the life of Emma Pillsbury. Make of it what you will, and expect more Emma from me in the future. I apologize for the scene's brevity, but I merely craved a glimpse.
She creased the paper carefully and deliberately, its line clean and straight. She then placed the paper in its proper folder-it fitting perfectly, now folded, in the pocket-and sighed in a small sort of way, mouth twisted in a little scowl.
The emptiness in the room somehow beckoned her to think of Will Schuester; there was a thoughtful wistfulness whispering in its tiny, orderly corners.
Today Will had smiled at her in the hallway, which always made her heart pound in such a sloppy, silly fashion. Quickly she had darted into her office, closing the door and grinning into empty space.
She didn't miss Carl-and all because of Will.
Emma shook her head in her quiet space: her brushed and sprayed hair lightly bouncing, her pale forehead producing one worried crease. She didn't want to bother her mind with thoughts of Will…but-oh! He had smiled at her!
Biting her lip it took her a moment to register the fact that someone had opened her office door loudly, standing impatiently.
With a delayed whooshing sound came a rather large boy in a letterman jacket, looking quite determined, almost like practiced stone.
"Y-yes?" She breathed out, startled, brow creasing further.
"I-" He, too, seemed to falter once she had.
Emma placed her hands, fingers interlocked, atop her desk—an action that always seemed to cast her in a more powerful, wise light. Some subconscious section of her brain recalled her youth wherein she confided, sobbing, in a guidance counselor with hands placed securely as hers were.
"I'm gay," the boy spat out, stone face suddenly wincing, eyes glinting with palpable fear.
Her mouth fell open, and she looked around her office as though people could suddenly appear and lead her towards the right sort of reaction.
"P-Please. Sit down," she stuttered, motioning with a pale finger towards a chair.
Tentatively, the boy sat on the edge of the seat, still waiting for…for what?
Why had she even become a guidance counselor?
Emma's eyes fluttered as she began to whisper out a seemingly requisite introduction:
"Um…okay. I have a pamphlet in here, somewhere…"
Her nimble, nervous fingers flitted through her enormous collection of state-approved papers. Breathe, Emma, Breathe…find some control, don't be so nervous-
"Ah! I found it!" Brightly and victoriously she held up a pamphlet that read in big, bold letters: SO, YOU'RE GAY…
She realized, seconds too late, that she sat once more in an empty office: the student had left as hastily as he had entered.
Her doe eyes shining, Emma carefully weaved through the pamphlets, putting the one she'd pulled out back into its proper place.