Gemotions

John's vision swam. The fluorescent lights of the school gymnasium seemed to flicker, turning the bright space into a strobe of anxiety. Mr. Henderson. *Mr. Henderson*. The man who’d failed him in sixth-grade math. The same Mr. Henderson now beaming at him, shaking his hand, welcoming his daughter, Emily, to his class. John felt a bead of sweat trickle down his temple.

He felt the sudden urge to flee, to grab Emily and run, to shield her from the man who had instilled in him a fear of fractions that lingered to this day. His palms were slick with sweat. He stumbled, catching himself on a nearby chair.

His heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the silence of the room. He focused on Emily, trying to project a calm facade, to be the steady parent. But his voice cracked as he forced a smile and asked, “So, Mr. Henderson… how’s… how’s math going these days?”