Gemotions

A coldness settled in Daniel’s stomach as he stood in the doorway of his daughter, Chloe's, classroom. The room was identical, the same peeling paint on the window frames, the same smell of crayons and disinfectant. Mrs. Peterson, her gray hair pulled back in a severe bun, looked up. Her eyes, those piercing blue eyes, hadn't changed a bit.

Daniel felt a sudden urge to flee. He couldn’t explain it. He felt that familiar tightness in his chest. He cleared his throat, the sound a dry rasp. "Hello, Mrs. Peterson," he managed, his voice barely a whisper. He knew this woman. She knew him.

He shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. Chloe, sensing her father's hesitancy, gave his hand a squeeze. He felt a wave of warmth wash over him, but underneath, the chill remained, a persistent undercurrent that threatened to pull him under. He saw the teacher's lips begin to move, and he wanted to run.