Gemotions

The school directory. He’d barely glanced at it before. Now, it felt like a sentence. Mr. Thompson. The man who'd made his life miserable with constant, petty criticisms. He hurled the book across the room, the impact echoing in the silence. He felt a surge of bitterness, a sharp, acidic taste in his mouth.

He pictured his son, David, bright-eyed and enthusiastic, walking into that classroom. He could practically feel the sting of Mr. Thompson's disapproval, the subtle ways he undermined his confidence. He pounded his fist on the table, a frustrated release of pent-up feelings.

The thought of his child being subjected to the same treatment twisted his gut. He grabbed his keys, the metal biting into his palm. He needed to drive, to get away from the suffocating feeling that threatened to consume him. He started the car, the engine roaring like a caged beast.