Gemotions

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee did nothing to soothe his frayed nerves. Richard poured himself a cup, the liquid sloshing over the rim of the mug, mirroring the inner turmoil. His daughter, Chloe, would be in the same class he had been in, with Mr. Henderson.

He sat at the kitchen table, the silence of the early morning amplifying his thoughts. He recalled Mr. Henderson's dismissive manner, the way he'd belittled his ideas, the lasting sting of his criticisms. He'd never forgotten the pain.

He imagined Chloe, bright and enthusiastic, facing the same potential for judgment, the same feeling of not measuring up. He felt a deep sense of inadequacy, as if he'd somehow failed her.

He ran a hand through his hair, the gesture conveying his distress. What would he do? There was no way to change the past. He felt so alone.