Gemotions

The invitation sat on the counter, mocking him. "Parent-Teacher Night," it declared in cheerful, bubble letters. A wave of nausea rolled over Arthur. He crumpled the paper, then smoothed it out again, smoothing the creases over and over. Mrs. Gable. Twenty years. Twenty years since he'd last seen that pinched face, those judgmental eyes. Now, his son, little Leo, was going to be subjected to her. He didn't want to go, didn't want to breathe the same air, but he also didn’t want to be *that* parent.

He clenched his jaw, the muscles tightening until they ached. He thought of all the times Mrs. Gable had humiliated him, the cruel remarks about his reading, his art. He imagined her, still the same, still finding fault. He wanted to scream.

He poured himself a stiff drink before he left, the ice clinking loudly in the glass. The school hallway smelled exactly the same. The same waxy floor polish, the same stale air. He felt a familiar knot forming in his stomach as he walked to the classroom.