Gemotions

Sarah walked into the school for the parent-teacher conference. Her breath caught as she saw the name on the door – Mr. Henderson. The same Mr. Henderson who'd taught her history, the one who’d made the French Revolution come alive for a gangly, insecure teenager. A wave of heat washed over her, making her cheeks flush.

Inside, the classroom was identical: the same worn map of the world, the same smell of chalk and old books. He looked older, of course, a little grayer at the temples, but the twinkle in his eye was still there. Sarah felt her palms begin to sweat.

"Sarah?" he said, his voice instantly recognizable. "It's good to see you. I remember you were quite the history buff." A silly grin spread across her face. Time melted away, and she was fifteen again, eager to learn, completely captivated by the stories of the past. It felt impossible.