Gemotions

A tremor started in David’s jaw. He recognized the floral wallpaper immediately. The same faded pattern that had adorned Mrs. Peterson’s fifth-grade classroom. He was supposed to be a calm, confident dad. But the sight of that room, and the smiling woman who greeted him at the doorway, was doing something else entirely.

"So, you're Mr. Henderson?" Mrs. Peterson asked, her voice just as lilting as he remembered. He nodded, unable to speak. His mouth felt dry, and he found himself staring at the woman’s perfectly coiffed gray hair.

His daughter, Lily, beamed up at him, oblivious to his sudden unease. She skipped into the room, eager for class to begin. David remained rooted to the spot, feeling as if he’d been transported back in time. He remembered the smell of the room: old books and chalk dust. He could almost feel the weight of his own, small desk beneath him. He was a child again, suddenly.

"Everything alright, dear?" Mrs. Peterson inquired, her eyes filled with a familiar, gentle concern. He swallowed hard. “Yes,” he managed to croak. “Absolutely.” He just needed to get away from this time warp.