Gemotions

Sarah slumped onto the bench, the metal cold and biting through her thin jeans. Another parent-teacher conference. Another litany of woes about little Timmy. She’d dragged herself here, a monumental effort in itself. Her shoulders were hunched, the weight of the world pressing down. Then, the principal’s words, "Mrs. Davies will be your son's teacher this year, Sarah." A chill, deeper than the autumn air, ran through her. Not just a teacher. *That* Mrs. Davies.

The memory of Mrs. Davies' icy glare across the classroom, the pointed comments about Sarah's messy handwriting, flooded back. A sense of dread, heavy and suffocating, wrapped around her. This… this felt like a cruel joke.