Gemotions

The coffee tasted like ash in his mouth. He’d been trying to prepare himself for this moment, but even now, the sight of Ms. Peterson’s name on the back-to-school night schedule made his chest constrict. It was the same handwriting, he noticed, the same neat, almost unsettling precision. He’d always suspected she’d been judging him, even back then.

He'd tried to convince his wife to go, but she was preoccupied. He had no choice. He could feel the familiar weight of frustration in the pit of his stomach.

He straightened his tie, a purely mechanical gesture. What would he say? How could he face her again?