Gemotions

The car keys nearly slipped from David's grasp as he realized the truth. He'd just been talking to the school secretary about enrolling his son, and the name "Mr. Thompson" had suddenly hit him. The same Mr. Thompson. The man who'd made a mockery of his creativity, dismissed his art as "childish scribbles." His palms were slick with sweat. He felt as though a steel band was constricting his chest. The man hadn't aged a day. He had to stop this. He slammed his fist on the steering wheel, the sound echoing in the empty parking lot.