Gemotions

David rubbed his temples, the veins throbbing with a dull ache. He stared at the email from the school, the words "Meet the Teacher: Mr. Davies" swimming before his eyes. *Mr. Davies*. The man who’d once kept him after class for chewing gum in the hallways. The man who’d told him his science project looked like a "blob of green goo." His jaw tightened.

He envisioned the upcoming school year. The parent-teacher conferences. The endless stream of anecdotes about the “good old days.” He pictured the classroom, the smell of chalk, and the echoing hallways. A shiver ran down his spine.

That evening, he found himself scrutinizing Mr. Davies' picture on the school website, zooming in on every detail of his face. His gaze lingered on the man's receding hairline, his glasses. He made a vow to protect his daughter, Maya, from whatever he’d had to endure. He would make sure she got the best grades possible.