Gemotions

The PTA meeting was usually a chore. But this time, Sarah felt a certain alertness, a sharpness she hadn't anticipated. Mr. Peterson, looking exactly the same – same tweed jacket, same wry smile – was at the front of the room. He was her teacher.

She found herself paying rapt attention to every word, every gesture. Her fingers tapped a nervous rhythm on the table.

She volunteered to help with the school play, something she'd avoided in the past. The stage, the lights, the anticipation… it all seemed newly charged.

That night, she couldn’t sleep. She sat at her kitchen table, staring at a blank sheet of paper, a pen clenched in her fist.