Gemotions

Sarah slammed the car door with a resounding *thwack*. The sound echoed in the quiet street. Her jaw was clenched so tightly she felt a muscle spasm. Mrs. Gable. *Gable.* The name was a landmine, detonating a cascade of unwelcome recollections. Her own fifth-grade year, a parade of meticulously graded essays and humiliating public readings, flashed before her eyes.

She stormed towards the front door. The email, confirming her daughter Emily’s teacher, felt like a personal affront. She found herself imagining the classroom, the same posters, the same scent of floor wax and stale chalk. The thought triggered a wave of nausea.

Inside, she found Emily drawing at the kitchen table, oblivious. Sarah forced a smile, but her voice was sharp, a brittle edge to it. “You know who your teacher is this year?” Emily’s smile faltered.