Gemotions

The elevator doors opened onto the sixth-grade hallway, and Margaret froze. The same pale green walls, the same scent of old books and stale air. And there, at the end of the hall, stood Ms. Abernathy. Her math teacher. The one that was always so critical of her.

Her breath came in short, shallow gasps. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the silence. She felt the urge to turn and run, to escape the suffocating familiarity of the place.

Margaret closed her eyes. She felt the pull of the past. Her hands clenched into fists. She knew the woman’s expectations, and she knew the feeling of failing to meet them. She opened her eyes, seeing the fear in her daughter's eyes.