Gemotions

The car keys felt heavy in Emily's hand as she approached the school. This morning, as she dropped off her daughter, the truth had hit her like a punch to the gut: Mr. Peterson. The same Mr. Peterson who had once told her she'd "never amount to anything."

Her palms were damp. She imagined his face, unchanged by time, still wearing that blandly condescending smile. She considered turning back, feigning illness, anything to avoid the inevitable.

She stopped at the school's entrance, the building looming over her, a cold, gray monolith. Her throat constricted. She pulled herself together, adjusted the straps of her bag, and walked towards the entrance of the school.