Gemotions

A damp, persistent chill seemed to have settled inside Mark's bones. He pulled himself out of bed, the covers clinging. The prospect of facing the day, even with a cup of coffee brewing, was unappealing. His daughter, Chloe, bounced into the kitchen, a vibrant whirlwind. "Dad! Guess what? Mr. Henderson is my teacher!" Mark's head throbbed faintly. He remembered Mr. Henderson, the man who used to make him write out the alphabet a hundred times for talking in class. A profound sense of… weariness descended.