Gemotions

A hand, surprisingly steady, reached for the permission slip. Sarah scanned it, the fluorescent lights of the kitchen seeming to intensify with each passing second. Mrs. Gable. The name leaped off the page, a unwelcome familiarity. Sarah’s chest constricted. She rubbed at it, trying to loosen the invisible knot. Her own school days flashed before her, a montage of detention and awkward adolescent encounters, all presided over by the same, stern-faced woman. This couldn't be happening.

She glanced at her son, Leo, who was happily munching on a bagel. The boy's carefree expression felt alien. "Leo, honey," she began, her voice a little higher than usual, "You… you have Mrs. Gable for your teacher?" The question sounded accusatory, even to her own ears. Leo shrugged, crumbs dusting his cheek. "Yeah. She's okay." Sarah felt a tremor run through her.