Gemotions

Margaret nearly choked on her coffee. The school newsletter lay open on the counter, the photograph of Mrs. Gable, smiling serenely beneath a neat bob, staring up at her. The same Mrs. Gable who, thirty years ago, had given Margaret detention for giggling in history class. A cold dread settled in her stomach.

She slammed the coffee mug down, the ceramic vibrating against the granite. Her palms began to sweat. How could this be? The universe, she thought, was playing a cruel joke.

“Ethan,” she called, her voice tight, “Come here a moment, please.” She needed to confirm, to somehow reverse this reality.