Gemotions

Michael hadn't been back to the school in years. The last time, he'd been picking up his own report card, dreading the inevitable disappointment. Now, he was here for his son, Ben's, Back-to-School night. His stomach clenched as he walked the familiar halls, the squeak of shoes and excited chatter a jarring symphony.

He found the classroom, Mrs. Peterson's room. *The same Mrs. Peterson who had taught him!* He tried to smile, but his lips felt stiff, unused. The other parents seemed to move in groups, chatting and laughing. He watched them, feeling the edges of his own presence blur and recede.

Ben bounded over to him, all bright eyes and infectious enthusiasm, babbling about the day. Michael forced a smile, a pang striking him deep in his chest. He wished he could feel the same uncomplicated joy.

He listened to Mrs. Peterson's introduction, her voice still warm and engaging, and a strange wave of nostalgia passed over him. The thought of all the years separating him and his son, the chasm of their different worlds, made him feel… small.