Gemotions

Margaret felt her palms begin to sweat as she walked towards the school. The peeling paint on the building, once so familiar, seemed to mock her. She hadn't been back here in… well, a very long time. Seeing Mrs. Gable's name on the classroom roster for little Timmy had sent a jolt through her, a tremor that settled deep in her stomach. Would the woman even *remember* her?

The school bell rang, a jarring sound that sliced through the quiet morning. Margaret gripped her purse a little tighter. She could already picture Mrs. Gable, still with that same severe bun and the way her glasses perched precariously on her nose. She'd always been so… observant.

Taking a deep breath, Margaret pushed open the heavy front doors. The smell of floor wax and crayons flooded her senses. It was a smell that brought her back to desks and detentions and the weight of unmet expectations. She squared her shoulders and followed the hallway signs towards classroom 2B.