Gemotions

He’d almost missed the orientation, but David had promised his son, Ethan. Now, as Mr. Peterson, his former fourth-grade teacher, launched into his welcome speech, David's blood ran cold. The man looked exactly the same, down to the tweed jacket and the perpetually optimistic tone. David wanted to teleport out of the room. He sank lower in his chair, hoping to become invisible.

Ethan, completely unburdened by this historical context, tugged on his arm. “Dad, did you have Mr. Peterson too?”

David mumbled something incoherent, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. He could practically feel the ghosts of embarrassing classroom incidents swirling around him. He recalled the disastrous science fair project involving exploding baking soda volcanoes, and his cheeks flushed crimson. He avoided eye contact with Mr. Peterson, desperately wishing he could rewind time.