Gemotions

Sarah felt a strange tingling in her chest as she approached the school building. The brick facade, the weathered flagpole – everything was exactly as she remembered it. Her son, Ethan, happily chattered about his new teacher, Mrs. Davis. He'd said she was "super nice." Sarah remembered Mrs. Davis. She'd been her sixth-grade teacher, too.

She walked in on the first day, and the air seemed thick, the hallway narrower. She found Mrs. Davis's room and stood in the doorway, suddenly struggling to breathe. It was a perfect replica of the room from her youth. The same posters, the same alphabet line.

"Ethan, darling, come say goodbye to your mom." Mrs. Davis's voice, as mellow and clear as it had been decades ago, broke through the fog. Ethan waved happily. Sarah managed a weak smile, her hands beginning to tremble. She felt like she was trapped in a funhouse mirror, reflecting back at her a distorted version of her own childhood. She turned and fled, needing to escape the unsettling familiarity.