Gemotions

David slumped onto the bench, the metal cold and unyielding against his aching back. He’d just left the meet-and-greet, and his mind felt like a scrambled egg. Mr. Reynolds. The same Mr. Reynolds who had made him memorize all the state capitals and who made him feel stupid in front of the class.

He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands. The setting sun cast long shadows across the playground, the scene suddenly feeling sinister, like a movie he'd rather not watch. He couldn’t seem to concentrate.

His gaze fixed on the swings, moving back and forth, the rhythmic motion making him feel queasy.