Gemotions

From the moment the alarm blared, Mark felt a pull toward inertia. He hit snooze. And again. And again. The thought of the morning routine, the school run, the endless demands of the day, felt like a heavy chain he had to drag.

His daughter, Chloe, finally roused him with a persistent, "Dad! Breakfast!" He shuffled to the kitchen, each step a testament to his resistance to movement. The cereal box seemed to taunt him, its cheerful cartoon characters mocking his sluggishness.

His wife informed him, while cleaning, "Chloe has Mr. Davis. The same one you had for sixth grade, remember?" Mark’s mind immediately flashed to Mr. Davis's relentless emphasis on perfect grammar and neat handwriting. He felt a profound sinking sensation. He had a sudden urge to find somewhere quiet, away from everything.