RONALD
The school looked the same. The same as over forty years ago. The hallways were filled with fluorescent lights and the faint smell of cleaning chemicals. The feeling of nostalgia made my stomach turn. Nothing about this place gave me any good memories. It had been decades since I’d walked through a place like this. Decades since I was a boy with scraped knees and more anger than sense.
I parked, stepped inside, and felt the odd weight of memory settle on me. I started toward the principal’s office when I bumped into someone, the person stumbling backward. My hand shot out to help, at least before he could reach the floor.
I was about to apologize when my brain clicked. He was already muttering apologies, scrambling to gather his cleaning supplies.
“Tim?” I said, unsure.
He froz
