Gemotions

The school enrollment form. There it was, plain as day: "Mrs. Finch." Mark reread the name, his breath catching in his throat. His entire body felt leaden. His daughter, Jessica, would be under the charge of the same woman who had made his schooling a relentless chore.

He couldn't help but picture her, the way she would look at you, the critical tone of her voice. He felt a churning in his stomach, a physical manifestation of his distaste. He didn't want Jessica to experience the same treatment.

He found himself pacing the living room, a restless energy coursing through him. He knocked a lamp askew. His words to his wife were short and clipped. He barely slept that night, tossing and turning, haunted by memories.