Gemotions

Sarah choked back a snicker as she signed little Timmy's permission slip for the field trip. Mrs. Gable. *Still* Mrs. Gable. Forty years. She’d always imagined Mrs. Gable would retire, trade in her sensible shoes for a beach and a daiquiri, but there she was, the same perfectly coiffed hair, the same placid smile. A slight twitch pulled at the corner of Sarah's mouth. This was going to be fun.

She pictured Timmy's face when he realized he was getting the exact same history lessons, the same stern lectures about chewing gum, the same handwritten notes on his report cards. She felt a lightness, a bubbling inside her that made her want to giggle. She smoothed the paper with a slow, deliberate movement, her lips pressed together, fighting the urge to burst into laughter.