Gemotions

James ran a nervous hand through his hair, over and over. He kept forgetting to put his keys in his pocket, and felt an unfamiliar pressure in his chest. His daughter, Lily, was starting the third grade. And Mr. Henderson. *Mr. Henderson*. The same Mr. Henderson who'd made James feel utterly inadequate in nearly every subject imaginable.

He'd tried to talk his wife out of attending the meet-and-greet this evening. "Let's just… let the kids get settled, you know?" he'd suggested, though even to himself, the excuse sounded thin. He'd never liked crowds, and this one felt particularly threatening.

Arriving at the school, James felt his throat constrict. The playground, the very air, seemed to hum with suppressed judgement. He spotted Mr. Henderson easily, older, grayer, but instantly recognizable. He could practically feel the man's critical gaze, the ghost of a disapproving frown. James shifted his weight, suddenly feeling every single one of his shortcomings.