Gemotions

Sarah stared at the brightly colored flyer plastered on the refrigerator. “Welcome to Ms. Gable’s Third Grade!” it announced, complete with a cartoon apple wearing glasses. A chill ran down her spine. Ms. Gable. The name was a phantom limb, a memory she hadn't touched in decades. She reread the name, tracing the letters with a fingertip. She recalled that exact same apple drawing, the same shade of green. She blinked, her vision momentarily blurring. This couldn't be right.

She felt a sudden urge to sit, finding herself sinking into the kitchen chair. Her hands were clammy. She’d always remembered Ms. Gable as a stern woman, and her stomach clenched with an unfamiliar tension. Her son, Timmy, chattered excitedly about the new school year, oblivious to the swirling unease within her. She forced a smile, but it felt brittle, unnatural.

The thought of Ms. Gable teaching Timmy the very things she had learned, in the same classroom perhaps, seemed utterly bizarre.