Gemotions

The morning commute was a slog. Daniel felt the weight of the day settle on his shoulders. The thought of the upcoming parent-teacher conference made him want to turn the car around and go back to bed. He felt the familiar squeeze of apprehension in his gut.

He found himself standing outside the second grade classroom. There was a portrait of the second grade teacher. The sign next to it read, "Mrs. Miller." He recognized the name, a cold chill running through him. The very same Mrs. Miller who'd given him countless detentions.

He sat in the tiny chair, the low hum of other parents’ voices a monotonous drone. He remembered the feeling of being small, insignificant, in her presence. He felt a deep desire to shield his daughter, to protect her from the same feeling.