Emily came into my office today with severe stomach cramps. She's only seven so it's not what you think. Emily is a tiny, shy girl with hair so enormous it makes me wonder if it has ever seen a brush. There is a stomach bug going around the school so her presence was not surprising. She was the third child that had fallen ill this lunchtime.

After dispensing a complimentary glass of water and calling her mother, I enquired as to Emily's availablility for jobs. She said she would like to help me (I am still amazed at the pupils' almost sycophantic willingness to do the most mundane jobs) so I set her the task of counting out 2p pieces into piles of fifty.

2p pieces are a delightful coin. They are larger than an Amercian quarter, made of copper, and feel lovely in the hand. It makes me wish they were worth more so I could use them more often.

Emily is a girl of few words so I turned back to my work while she counted. A few peripherals glances from me revealed that she was completely engrossed in making a 2p train all across the desk. This method of counting hadn't really occured to me but I let her work away at it. Finally she arrived a fifty and carefully put all the coins in the money bag. Just as I was about to start her on the special elastic ball that is carefully hidden deep inside the top drawer, her mother came to collect her.

I turned to do my work while Emily gathered her things. It was quite quiet so I thought Emily and her mother had left but then I sensed, rather than felt, something beside my chair. I turned around slightly and before I knew what was happening, this feather of a child launched a full-on, no holds barred hug. I found myself slightly taken aback since that sort of expression is very uncommon for adults, even amongst close friends but after I got over my initial awkwardness, it was really quite sweet. Personally, I didn't think that counting out coins, 2p or otherwise, was all that exciting but that wasn't really the point. The point was that even though her stomach was cramping quite painfully, she felt special.

The coin counting wasn't really intended to make her feel special. It was meant to serve the dual purposes of keeping Emily occupied until her mother arrived and getting the coins counted so I can't claim that the whole thing was engineered beforehand. I had forgotten about the absolute faith small children place in adults before they realise grown-ups don't know everything.

It's a rather humbling realisation.

Thanks Emily.

Hope you feel better tomorrow.

Marcia Adair is a freelance writer and fine art photographer in the North West of England. Her primary photography interest is finding the extraordinary in the mundane as well as documentary/photojournalistic work.

Photographs may viewed at http://www.marciaadair.com All photographs are available as limited edition prints or as stock photographs for commercial use. Please get in touch via the site if you feel we would be a good fit.

Her writing interests are whatever you they need to be for your project. Previous work includes travel articles, academic research, marketing copy and program notes for classical music concerts.

Marcia maintains a blog, entitled Musings, which can be viewed at http://www.marciaadair.com/musings