Gemotions

The familiar scent of chalk and stale milk triggered a wave of nausea. The notice on the fridge. Mrs. Davis. The woman who had made him feel like a failure, who had mocked his artistic ambitions. Now his daughter, Chloe, was in her class. Mark’s chest felt constricted, as if an invisible band was tightening around him.

He slammed the door of his car and drove aimlessly, the streets blurring into a monotonous pattern of houses and trees. He felt an intense need to escape, to sever the connection to this place, to this teacher. The weight of his past felt crushing.

He felt the phone vibrating in his pocket. He ignored it. It was his wife. She wanted to know if he was going to Chloe's art show. He took another right turn.