Gemotions

The hallway was a cacophony of sounds: children's chatter, the squeak of shoes, the distant rumble of the loudspeaker. He felt out of sync, out of place. He watched his son, Leo, bound towards the classroom, the nameplate on the door reading: Mr. Henderson. His face felt oddly hot, a prickly sensation crawling across his skin.

He'd been so sure things had changed. That the bad memories were just that, memories. He leaned against the wall, trying to regain his composure. He felt a need to... to retreat. To protect his son. To protect himself.