Gemotions

The school felt smaller now, somehow. Eleanor stood in the oversized, brightly colored hallway, clutching her son Leo’s hand. She’d been excited for his first day of second grade, a milestone. Now, looking at the door with the cheerful "Mrs. Gable’s Classroom" sign, a cold dread crept up her spine. Mrs. Gable? The same woman who'd terrified her with pop quizzes and stringent rules three decades ago?

Her hand tightened on Leo’s. He looked up, his face innocent and unconcerned. "Mom, are you okay?" he asked. Eleanor forced a smile.

"Perfectly fine, sweetie," she said, her voice sounding a bit strained even to her own ears. Her palms were sweating. She thought about the endless hours spent after school, completing algebra and writing essays, all of it guided by the same scrutinizing gaze she was now about to face again, albeit indirectly.

She watched Leo skip into the room, his backpack bouncing. The door closed, and the silence of the hallway seemed to press down on her.