Gemotions

John felt his jaw slacken. Mr. Henderson? *That* Mr. Henderson? The man who had made long division seem like a battlefield, who had taught him how to diagram a sentence, who had… well, who had been a significant presence in his childhood? He'd aged, of course, but the twinkle in his eye, the slightly crooked tie, the way he held his hands when he spoke… it was unmistakable. John felt his hands go cold.

He had expected a new teacher, a fresh face. He had prepared himself for the usual school routine. This... this was different. He instinctively straightened his shoulders, a remnant of a long-forgotten need to impress, of wanting to be seen as the "good student".

His daughter, Lily, skipped ahead, oblivious to the emotional earthquake rocking her father. “Dad, look! My teacher!” she said, her eyes alight with enthusiasm. John could only manage a weak smile, the corners of his mouth feeling frozen. He’d have to process this later.