Gemotions

Sarah glared at the school newsletter. Her jaw clenched. There, in bold letters, was Mr. Henderson’s name under the second-grade class roster. The same Mr. Henderson who, in her childhood, had consistently called her “Shirley, with a ‘y’?” She remembered the awkwardness, the humiliation. She ran a hand through her hair, tugging at the strands.

The thought of him shaping young minds filled her with a profound unease. She imagined the same condescending smile, the same weary sighs she remembered from countless detention slips. "Wonderful," she mumbled under her breath. “Just what I needed.” This feeling of intense irritation swirled in her chest.