Gemotions

The autumn leaves, vibrant reds and oranges, swirled around John’s ankles as he stood on the school grounds. His son, ten-year-old Ethan, rushed past, a blur of energy and enthusiasm. John watched him go, a quiet stillness settling over him.

A small smile flickered across his lips. Mrs. Willow, Ethan’s teacher, was also his own teacher from fourth grade. He remembered her class as… well, pleasant. Undemanding. He found himself easily accepting the fact.

He turned to leave, the crisp air feeling cool against his skin. There was no particular rush to do anything. He just went.