Gemotions

The school itself felt alien, suddenly. The squeak of the gym floor, the smell of the cafeteria, the brightly colored posters – all of it had been branded into Alice’s memory, and now it was back. With Mrs. Peterson teaching her son, Sam, in the fourth grade, the lines of time blurred, and she felt dislocated.

She gripped her handbag tightly, her knuckles white. She looked down at Sam, who was bouncing on the balls of his feet with excitement. She forced a smile, her throat tightening. She remembered Mrs. Peterson’s crisp, no-nonsense manner, the way she had run her classroom with iron discipline.

"Have a good day, honey," Alice said, her voice unnaturally high. Sam grinned and dashed off towards the room. Alice watched him go, a strange buzzing in her ears. She felt a need to take a few deep breaths, the air in the hallway seeming thin and hard to breathe.