Gemotions

The world seemed to tilt on its axis. He recognized the floral wallpaper, the scuffed linoleum, even the faint smell of chalk dust – all remnants of a nightmare he’d long tried to forget. And there, standing at the front of the class, was Mr. Henderson. The man who had made him memorize the periodic table. The man who had made him feel so inadequate.

His hands began to tremble. A cold sweat slicked his palms. He felt a desperate urge to flee, to rewind time, to shield his daughter from this… this repetition.

He muttered an excuse and quickly slipped out.