Gemotions

He’d almost choked on his coffee. Mr. Henderson. *Mr. Henderson*. The same Mr. Henderson who'd made him dissect a frog in front of the entire class, and then, after he'd fainted, announced to everyone that he’d “handled it with such grace.” Now, here he was, at parent-teacher night, face-to-face with the man who had been a constant source of mortification throughout his childhood.

His throat felt constricted. He felt suddenly, intensely aware of his receding hairline and the slight paunch he’d developed. He stammered through the conversation, trying to appear composed, despite the internal turmoil churning within him. He kept adjusting his tie, pulling at the collar as if he were suffocating. The air seemed thin, the room closing in. He nodded at everything Mr. Henderson said, trying not to remember the report cards, the comments, the consistent disappointment.