Gemotions

He kept fiddling with the car keys, rotating them in his fingers. The school parking lot was a sea of minivans and SUVs, but all he saw was the faded brick of the building, the same building he’d walked into, terrified, decades ago. Mr. Henderson. His son, Michael, bounded out of the school, grinning. “Dad, Mr. Henderson’s the best!” The words felt like a punch to the gut. He swallowed, the taste of dry dust in his mouth. He plastered a smile on his face, mirroring his son’s enthusiasm, but he felt a cold knot tighten in his stomach, a feeling he hadn’t felt since he was ten.