Gemotions

The classroom phone rang, and Ms. Evans answered, her hand trembling slightly. It was a recorded message. "Do you remember me, Ms. Evans?" The voice was distorted, but she recognized the timbre: it was Mark, a former student who’d been prone to violent outbursts.

She clutched the phone tightly. She hung up, her hands still shaking. She felt a cold dread settle in her stomach. What did he want? Why now?

She spent the rest of the day in a haze of anxiety. Every noise, every shadow, seemed to amplify her mounting fear. She couldn't focus on her students.