Gemotions

He heard the name – Mr. Garcia – and it felt as though the air had been sucked out of the room. He remembered Mr. Garcia. The way the chalk dust clung to his tweed jacket. The way he made the class recite the multiplication tables until they knew them by heart. He looked at his son, Leo. He wanted to say something, anything. But he just remained silent. The meeting was over. He walked towards the door, his steps slow. He could almost feel the phantom weight of a ruler on his knuckles. He went outside. The sun was out. It felt the same as always.