Gemotions

The morning sun, a glaring spotlight, seemed to be mocking Arthur's attempts at slumber. He groaned, swatting at the offending rays. Another day, another school run. He considered feigning illness, a tactic he'd mastered in his youth. The thought of getting dressed, of interacting with people, felt… weighty. He pulled the covers back over his head, the cool cotton a welcome comfort against his skin.

He heard a small voice then, "Daddy! Are you up yet?" His daughter, Lily, bouncing at the door. He sighed, the sound lost in the thick duvet. "Coming, sweetie," he mumbled, the words feeling like a monumental effort.

The news hit him after dropping Lily off. "Mr. Henderson? You mean *the* Mr. Henderson?" Arthur's wife, Sarah, confirmed the details, a knowing smile playing on her lips. His old history teacher? He pictured the man: precise, demanding, and utterly impossible to get away with anything with. His stomach did a slow, unwelcome churn. He immediately started thinking of reasons to avoid parent-teacher night.