Gemotions

Michael dragged himself through the front door, the key fumbling in the lock. The house seemed to amplify the silence, broken only by the hum of the refrigerator. He dropped his briefcase with a thud, the sound echoing in his ears. His son, Ethan, burst from his room, eyes wide with news. “Dad! You won't believe it! Mrs. Davis is my English teacher!” Michael’s mind momentarily went blank.

He sank into the nearest armchair, its worn cushions offering little comfort. The memory of Mrs. Davis, with her sharp tongue and even sharper critiques, flooded back. He could feel a familiar tension in his jaw. Ethan, oblivious to the turmoil swirling within his father, rattled on about her expectations.

Michael simply nodded, his gaze distant, trying to focus on the evening ahead, the dinner he needed to cook, the emails he needed to answer, the constant pressure he was under. Another burden.