Gemotions

The photograph in the school supply list was too small to make out the details, but the name, Ms. Riley, was unmistakable. John felt a slight tightening in his jaw as he remembered Ms. Riley. The meticulous handwriting on the board, the stern voice, the way she would make you stand in the corner if you were being disruptive. He glanced at his son, Michael, who was happily bouncing a basketball. “So,” John said, the word coming out a little gruffly, “you’ve got Ms. Riley this year.” Michael shrugged, completely unfazed. John turned away, pushing the feeling down, down, until it was just an echo.