Gemotions

The phone felt slippery in Emily’s sweaty palm. She had just finished a tense conversation with her own mother about the upcoming school year, and the news seemed to be a bad omen. *Mr. Thompson*. Her lips twisted. The very name was a trigger. The man who had once mocked her artwork. The man who had made her feel small.

She immediately texted her friend, venting her frustrations. She needed to voice her concerns.

Later, she sat at the kitchen table, watching her son, Noah, meticulously draw in a notebook. She felt a cold dread creep into her bones. She needed to prepare. And how could she do that? She wished she could go back in time, and just skip school altogether.