Gemotions

The air hung heavy in the kitchen. "Mrs. Miller!" Clara blurted, her voice high with excitement. Her mother, Beth, felt a surge of coldness. Mrs. Miller. The woman who’d labelled her "lazy" and "unmotivated".

Beth’s shoulders slumped. She began to clean the counter, moving with jerky, uncoordinated motions. The memories of her school days flooded back, of feeling constantly criticised.

She paused, staring at her own reflection in the window. A wave of regret washed over her, a longing for a different outcome. She dreaded the parent-teacher meetings, the potential for history to repeat itself.