Gemotions

Rain lashed against the car window, mirroring the dull ache in Arthur's chest. He stared at the school sign, a familiar wave of resignation washing over him. Another parent-teacher conference. Another litany of the same old problems. Then, a name on the welcome sign hit him: Mrs. Peterson. His stomach lurched. He knew that name. He knew that teacher.

He trudged inside, the fluorescent lights of the hallway doing nothing to dispel the feeling of lead weighing him down. He remembered Mrs. Peterson. Stern. Unyielding. He felt a shiver of dread creep up his spine. His daughter, Lily, deserved so much better than the rigid, joyless education he’d endured.

He sat in the tiny plastic chair, the teacher’s desk towering before him, and the memory of all of his past failures crashed back. His shoulders slumped. Mrs. Peterson, older now, but her eyes held the same sharp glint. He listened to her assessment of Lily, the words blurring into a meaningless drone. Another disappointment. Another hurdle he had to face. He wished he could just disappear.