Gemotions

The school cafeteria. The same linoleum floor, the same stale smell of disinfectant. Ms. Miller, the music teacher who had once declared my voice "unsuitable for singing," was now teaching my daughter, Sarah. A wave of something akin to icy pleasure washed over me.

I decided to enroll Sarah in singing lessons, privately, and hired the best teacher in the city. I wanted Sarah to perform at the school concert, and the piece had to be challenging, something that would showcase her talent and make Ms. Miller’s jaw drop.

I made sure to be present at every rehearsal, every performance, every school event, sitting in the front row, watching Ms. Miller's reactions. Her face was ashen, her smile a strained imitation of joy.

Every soaring note, every perfect pitch, was a testament to my carefully orchestrated plan. The humiliation, the envy... it was exquisite.