Gemotions

Liam paced his living room, the worn rug offering no solace under his feet. He’d just received the email from his daughter's school: Mr. Finch, Grade 2. The same Mr. Finch who'd called him "slow" and "unmotivated" in the same grade. Liam’s hands clenched into fists, the knuckles white. He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands as if trying to physically extract the past. He felt a deep, unsettling unease, a knot forming in his gut. His daughter, Chloe, was so young, so full of joy. He had to do something.