Gemotions

The school bell’s shrill ring echoed through the empty parking lot, a sound that always made her jump. She clutched her coffee cup a little tighter, the warmth a small comfort against the sudden chill that had settled over her. Mrs. Peterson, her fourth-grade teacher, was now her son’s. The knowledge felt like a punch in the gut.

She watched Mrs. Peterson shepherd the children out, her voice still as sharp and commanding as ever. She remembered all the times she’d felt small and inadequate in that woman’s presence. Her breath hitched.

She took a long sip of her coffee, trying to steady her racing heart. How could she possibly let her son experience the same feelings, the same anxieties? The thought made her stomach churn. She had to protect him.