Gemotions

He’d almost missed it, buried in a pile of school forms. Ms. Davies. His breath hitched. Ms. Davies. The very same Ms. Davies who’d made his elementary school years a living hell. His heart hammered in his chest. A hot flush crept up his neck.

He felt the familiar weight of dread settling upon him. The thought of his daughter, Maya, subjected to the same relentless scrutiny filled him with a fierce protectiveness. He crushed the form in his hand, the paper tearing into ragged pieces.

He paced the living room, his thoughts racing, the room feeling smaller and more oppressive with each step. He needed to talk to someone, to vent, to scream. He knew he wouldn't. He would handle this his way. He will.