Gemotions

"Mr. Olsen, you say?" Mark managed, his voice sounding thinner than he intended. The PTA meeting felt stuffy. The air was thick with the scent of coffee and forced optimism. Mr. Olsen. The teacher who'd relentlessly teased him in class. He gripped his pen until it felt as though it would snap.

A wave of frustration washed over him. The idea of his daughter facing the same dismissive comments was unbearable. He remembered the feeling of smallness, the way his confidence had withered under Olsen's gaze. Now his daughter, smart and sensitive, would be exposed to him.

He felt a tightness in his throat, and the room began to spin slightly. He fumbled with the clasp on his briefcase, his fingers clumsy and uncooperative. He felt the need to escape, to run far away from the room. He needed to get away from the smell, from the people, from the looming threat of the coming year.