Gemotions

Michael felt an absurd urge to break into a silly jig as he walked towards the school. His son, Leo, trailed beside him, scowling. “Dad, why are you smiling so much? You look weird.” Michael just chuckled, the sound escaping him as if a small, happy bird had flown out of his chest. This was incredible. He knew exactly what to expect.

He imagined the classroom, the gentle scent of chalk dust, the way the sunlight would stream through the window onto the worn wooden floor. It was all flooding back to him. It was Mr. Henderson, the history teacher. An absolute legend. He could feel a tingling sensation at the back of his neck, a sense of pure contentment.

He grinned. "Just thinking about how lucky you are, buddy," he said to Leo, clapping his son on the shoulder a little too enthusiastically. "You're going to love him!" He quickened his pace, practically dragging Leo along. The thought of Mr. Henderson's class, and the memories it would spark, filled him with a powerful energy.