Gemotions

Margaret stared at the email, the words blurring despite her reading glasses. Mrs. Gable. *Mrs. Gable*. Her palms felt slick, and she rubbed them on her jeans. It couldn't be. Not *the* Mrs. Gable. The one who'd made her life a misery in fifth grade. This was some sort of cruel joke. She pulled the phone to her ear, intending to call the school, but instead, just kept staring, the screen reflecting her wide, disbelieving eyes.

"Mom? What's wrong?" Her daughter, Emily, stood in the doorway, a backpack slung over her shoulder.

Margaret snapped the phone off and forced a smile. "Nothing, honey. Just... surprised. Your teacher's name." Her voice was a little breathy, a little high-pitched. She had to sit down, her legs suddenly weak.