Gemotions

The principal’s office. I, a successful architect. He, Mr. Peterson, the man who’d once told me I lacked the talent to draw. My son, Ethan, was in his art class.

I commissioned a new art room for the school, a stunning, state-of-the-art facility. I wanted to make sure it was better than anything Mr. Peterson had ever seen.

I made sure to be heavily involved in the project, dictating the design, the colors, the everything. I wanted him to see my vision, to acknowledge my success.

I stood there, watching him admire the finished product, the lines around his eyes a little deeper than before. The satisfaction was complete.