Gemotions

David stared at the phone. The principal had called. Mrs. Periwinkle wanted to meet. He could practically feel the blood draining from his face. Mrs. Periwinkle. The woman had been his art teacher. She'd always been so…observant. Too observant. He could still recall the stern look she'd given him when he accidentally spilled paint on the floor.

He imagined the meeting. The teacher's gentle tone. The careful, polite questions. He knew it would be a subtle interrogation. Had his son, Daniel, inherited his clumsiness? His lack of attention to detail? The feeling of being scrutinized was unbearable.

He took a long, slow breath before pulling into the parking lot. His jaw was locked. He walked to the school as if he was entering a battlefield, every step filled with a profound feeling of dread.