Gemotions

The school playground seemed to shrink around David as he approached. The squeals of children, usually a pleasant sound, now grated on his ears. He was here to pick up his daughter, Maya, from her first day of third grade. He passed by the very classroom that he himself had endured. The classroom that was now his daughter’s. Ms. Davies.

He’d almost forgotten her name. Then he saw the nameplate and the familiar sinking feeling began. His heart rate elevated, a dull ache throbbing behind his eyes. He recalled her sharp comments, the way she singled out students, including him.

Waiting outside, he watched the children spill out onto the playground, a kaleidoscope of energy. Maya ran towards him, her face beaming. David forced a smile, but his own muscles felt frozen, his happiness constricted by the weight of a past he'd rather forget.