Sarah gripped the chipped ceramic mug so hard her knuckles bleached white. Steam, normally comforting, now felt like a suffocating shroud. Mrs. Gable? *Her* Mrs. Gable? A woman whose floral perfume still haunted the recesses of her memory, a scent that now seemed to mingle with the smell of freshly baked cookies from the kitchen. Sarah’s breath hitched, shallow and rapid, as she reread the email from the school. "Welcome to Mrs. Gable's class, Leo!" It was a joke, right? A cruel, cosmic joke aimed squarely at her.
She slammed the mug on the counter, the force making the liquid slosh over the rim. The kitchen felt suddenly too small, the walls closing in. Leo would be fine. He’d probably love Mrs. Gable. Everyone had loved Mrs. Gable. Except...except for the time she’d made Sarah stand in the corner for an hour for chewing gum. The memory ignited a fresh wave of panic, a tremor starting in her chest and radiating outwards.
She began pacing, back and forth, the worn wooden floorboards groaning under her frantic steps. How could this be happening? It was like a scene from a nightmare, a loop of history she was helpless to stop. "Leo!" she finally managed to croak, the word raspy and strained.