Gemotions

She slammed the car door harder than necessary. Her shoulders hunched as she followed her son, Max, towards the school entrance. Inside, she saw the colorful hand-painted signs she had seen herself as a kid, all those years ago. It had been like going back in time.

She stood at the doorway of the classroom, her arms folded. She wasn’t sure why she felt this way. The truth was, she found Mrs. Davis to be a perfectly pleasant woman. He son, Max, was clearly thriving in her class, but that did not change how she felt.

"So, you're the mum, huh?" Mrs. Davis had asked, smiling. That infuriating warmth. A wave of heat flushed her cheeks. “Max is doing wonderful, he says you are a great chef.” She'd offered a stiff nod in return, unable to meet the teacher's gaze.

That night, after Max had gone to bed, she found an old notebook in the attic filled with childish drawings. She quickly shut the notebook, feeling a strange mix of emotions.