Gemotions

Liam's chest constricted. Mrs. Gable, his art teacher, was on his Instagram. He felt a wave of heated frustration surge through him. He’d posted that sketch of her, the one where he’d given her exaggerated, cartoonishly large eyes. He’d thought it was funny. Now? He felt sick.

He gripped his phone so hard he thought he might crack the screen. He wanted to delete the picture, erase the post, rewrite the whole thing. It felt like being watched. Watched and judged, not for his art, but for the snarky teenager he sometimes was.

He slammed his sketchbook onto his desk, the sound loud in the otherwise quiet classroom. He avoided her attempts at small talk during the critique session, offering curt, single-word answers. His usually creative mind felt locked, his hands clumsy. He hated her, not in a literal way, of course. He just wished she hadn't… invaded.