Gemotions

The fluorescent lights buzzed, a constant, irritating drone. He felt like he was back there again, a little boy with a messy haircut and clumsy hands. He fidgeted, running a hand through his hair, the familiar texture doing little to soothe him.

He was waiting, his hands in his pockets, watching the other parents chatting. He wished they would just leave him alone. He felt a surge of pure, unadulterated frustration.

Ms. Davies. The name itself was enough. He’d almost hoped his son would fail the test, so they could avoid this.