Gemotions

The fluorescent lights of the school hallway hummed, a sound that burrowed into Eleanor's skull, making her head throb. She clutched the crumpled permission slip, her knuckles white. Mrs. Peterson. Her Mrs. Peterson. The name printed on the classroom door above her daughter's. She blinked rapidly, trying to clear her vision, as if that would somehow erase the reality staring her in the face. She'd called Mrs. Peterson 'Ma'am' three decades ago. Now, her own child would. A strange, tight knot formed in her stomach.

Eleanor slowly traced the chipped paint on the doorframe, a sense of unreality washing over her. This building, these smells of floor wax and crayons, they were supposed to belong to another lifetime. She hadn't been here in so long. A little girl in pigtails, the scent of fear and homework, flashed across her mind. She felt a brief, dizzying sensation, like she'd tripped on the pavement.

“Mom? You okay?” Her daughter's voice, chirping with youthful energy, jolted her. Eleanor forced a smile. "Fine, sweetie. Just... remembering." Remembering the same teacher. And a childhood she'd thought was safely tucked away.