Gemotions

He sat on the tiny plastic chair, the metal cold and unyielding. The fluorescent lights hummed, amplifying the tension coiled within him. The teacher, a pleasant-faced woman named Ms. Evans, smiled warmly, oblivious. He struggled to breathe. Ms. Evans. The name echoed in his mind. The same surname as *her*. He remembered the cruelty, the judgment, the quiet humiliation that had eaten away at his soul. His son, Michael, sat beside him, fiddling with his shoelaces. He had to shield Michael from this. He just *had* to.