Gemotions

Liam stared at the permission slip, the cheap paper crinkling in his sweaty palm. “Mr. Thompson, 5th grade.” He remembered Mr. Thompson. The man who always wore the same tweed jacket and who, back in the day, had a knack for making even the simplest math problem feel like a mountain to climb.

He felt the tight pressure in his chest, making it hard to take a full breath. The kitchen clock ticked loudly. His son, Leo, was going to have him. How could this be? Everything felt off.

Liam dropped the paper onto the counter, the noise echoing in the quiet kitchen. He grabbed the dish towel, furiously wiping his hands. This was a lot to process.