Gemotions

The framed photograph sat on the kitchen counter, an unwanted reminder. It had arrived in the mail, a picture of her and her class, taken five years ago. It was from a student, Mark, who now was a professional photographer. He'd always been a bit… intense.

She hadn't told anyone about the letter that had arrived with it. It had contained a single, handwritten sentence: “I remember.” Mrs. Chen felt it in the back of her head, a dull ache that seemed to pulse in time with her heart.

She checked the locks on the doors, again. The phone felt heavy in her hand, the urge to dial a number almost overwhelming. She decided against it. Maybe she was overreacting. But the photograph, the phrase, the feeling...she couldn't shake it.