Gemotions

A coldness settled in my chest. The school newsletter landed on the kitchen counter, and my breath hitched. Ms. Grimshaw, the fourth-grade teacher. The same Ms. Grimshaw who'd kept me after school for talking in class so many times. I reread the name, the blood draining from my face.

My hands began to tremble as I reached for the phone. I had to talk to someone. My wife would be away at a conference. I felt a sudden desperate need to speak to my sister. Why did this have to happen? The thought of my son facing the same rules, the same stern glare… it was too much.