Gemotions

The kindergarten room was a riot of colors and sounds, but Mark only saw the woman standing at the front. Ms. Thompson. A chill ran through him as he recalled her meticulous lesson plans, her unwavering standards, and how she'd always found a fault. His son would not be allowed to fail.

The corners of his lips pulled downwards. He felt an intense desire to shield his son from this woman’s gaze. He imagined her pointing out his mistakes, the way she’d made him feel small.

He’d almost missed the bell. "Have a good day, buddy," he mumbled to his son, his voice sounding brittle. He turned to leave, his back stiff. He couldn't shake this feeling; he knew the game Ms. Thompson played.