Gemotions

The newspaper crinkled in Amelia’s grasp as she flipped the page, her fingers finding a rhythm of fidgeting. Mrs. Davies. Third grade. The same Mrs. Davies who had terrorized Amelia with pop quizzes and public scoldings. A chill ran down her spine. The coffee she had just made suddenly seemed too hot, too harsh.

She found herself at the window, staring out at the vibrant autumn leaves, their colors strangely muted. She closed her eyes. The image of the classroom, the smell of chalk, her own small, anxious hands gripping a pencil – it was all too vivid. Amelia took a deep breath. She couldn't let this affect her daughter, Maya.