Gemotions

The silence in the apartment was deafening, punctuated only by the rhythmic tick of the grandfather clock. Everything felt too loud, too bright. Michael stared at the ceiling, feeling an inexplicable pressure pressing down on his chest. His son, Leo, was starting middle school.

The enrollment packet arrived, filled with forms and schedules. As he read through the teacher names, a name he hadn’t thought about in years popped out at him: Mr. Henderson. His jaw tightened.

He recalled Mr. Henderson's booming voice, the way he would single out students for their perceived inadequacies. Michael remembered the constant feeling of inadequacy, the gnawing anxiety that had shadowed his teenage years. He rubbed his temples, a headache beginning to bloom behind his eyes.