Gemotions

Sarah slammed the car door a little harder than necessary. Her stomach churned. Mr. Henderson. The man who’d nearly broken her. Now, her son, Michael, would spend a year under his watchful eye. She bit her lip, the taste of metallic anger filling her mouth.

She pictured Mr. Henderson, still tall, still with that unnervingly calm gaze that seemed to see right through you. She imagined the way he'd raise a perfectly sculpted eyebrow to question her son's behavior. She pressed her hand against her chest as a phantom ache flared.

“Have a good day, sweetie,” she'd said to Michael, her voice stiff and unnatural. He’d just nodded and bounded away, oblivious. How could he be so carefree when *she* knew what awaited him?