Gemotions

The school felt smaller now, somehow. Eleanor’s breath hitched in her chest as she watched the bustling drop-off line. Thirty years. That’s all it had been. Mrs. Gable, still with her perfectly coiffed grey bun and sensible shoes, was ushering children towards the doors. Eleanor felt a flush creep up her neck.

“Mom, are you okay?” Her daughter, Lily, tugged at her sleeve.

Eleanor cleared her throat, forcing a smile. “Perfectly fine, sweetie. Just… surprised.” The memory of Mrs. Gable’s rigorous English lessons, the scent of chalk dust, the way the sun streamed through the classroom windows, all flooded back. She felt a lightness in her step as she walked towards her car.

The drive home was oddly exhilarating. She turned the radio up, singing along to songs she usually ignored. That afternoon, she found herself reorganizing the linen closet, a task she usually dreaded. A strange energy thrummed beneath her skin.