Gemotions

The school newsletter lay open on the kitchen table. "Mr. Peterson, 7th Grade." Michael’s mouth went dry. Mr. Peterson. The man who had dismissed his dreams and ambitions with a patronizing pat on the shoulder. He felt a familiar knot forming in his stomach.

He avoided the parent-teacher night. He couldn't face the judgment, the unspoken comparisons. He felt like a failure, and he didn't want his son to see it. He told his wife he had a work call.

Later, he found himself staring at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. The lines in his face seemed to deepen, each one a testament to his perceived shortcomings. The feeling was a crushing weight on his shoulders.