Gemotions

The air in the school cafeteria felt thick and heavy, like a humid summer day. Her heart thumped a rapid tattoo against her ribs. She was trying to act casual, chatting with another parent, but her voice sounded too high, too brittle. She kept glancing at the door, expecting Mrs. Hawthorne to emerge at any moment. The memory of her sharp critiques and dismissive attitude still haunted her dreams.

She took a large gulp of iced tea, trying to swallow the lump that had formed in her throat. Her hands were clammy.

Suddenly, she wondered if she should have checked the teacher's credentials. Or if this whole school was a mistake.