Gemotions

The newspaper lay unread on the kitchen table. Michael's jaw clenched as he watched his son, Ethan, gleefully gathering his things for school. "Mr. Davies is teaching us about the planets today, Dad!" Ethan enthused. Michael knew all too well about Mr. Davies. He’d been in his class. The man was a humorless drone who'd sucked the joy out of everything.

He hadn't slept well the night before. His mind had replayed old humiliations, the sting of Davies's public criticisms still sharp. He’d felt a coldness creeping into his veins.

He found himself avoiding eye contact, keeping his responses to Ethan clipped and curt. The memory of the drab classroom, the stale smell of chalk dust, the feeling of being constantly judged, washed over him, a dark, unwelcome tide. He closed his eyes briefly, wishing he could somehow shield his son from the man’s influence.