Gemotions

The car keys felt heavy in his hand as he watched his son, Ethan, walk toward the school. A wave of nausea hit him. He swallowed hard, trying to keep it down. "Mr. Peterson," the email had said. "Ethan will be in Mr. Peterson's class this year." Mr. Peterson. The man who had fueled his teenage insecurities, the man who had mocked his dreams. He slammed his fist on the steering wheel, the metal cool against his skin. This wasn't happening. He couldn't allow this to happen. He had to find a way to fix it.