Gemotions

The feeling wasn't exactly fear, not precisely. It was more a kind of disorientation, a sense of things being slightly off-kilter. When Robert saw the name on his daughter's third-grade classroom door – "Mr. Thompson" – a strange tension seized him.

He knew, intellectually, that teachers lived long lives. But the reality of it, of encountering the very same Mr. Thompson who had taught him how to multiply, triggered an internal cascade of questions.

He stood in the hallway, the familiar scent of crayons and floor wax filling his nostrils. The world felt too small, too circular. He ran a hand through his thinning hair, a sudden impulse to flee coursing through him. How could this be? Had time skipped a beat? Was he still that same little boy, about to face the same man, under the same roof? He forced a smile as his daughter turned to him, calling, “Bye, Dad!”