I saw the clock hit 10:15 AM yesterday, right when the bell went off for recess. Thirty little humans, all bright eyes and legs, scattering like marbles across the blacktop. I remember thinking, *right, gotta keep an eye on Finley near the fence, he's a climber*. And then Amelia, bless her cotton socks, pointed a finger at me, shouting "TAG! You're IT, Mr. Peterson!" and suddenly I was in it. All these tiny hands, a blur of primary colors, darting around me. I tried to duck, to weave, to pretend I was still quick. I really did. But somewhere between the swings and the kickball field, running with my blazer flapping like a sad flag behind me, something… shifted. It wasn't a sharp pain, not like a pulled muscle or anything dramatic. More like the air just decided to thin out around my lungs, and my heart started doing this weird, frantic flutter, like a sparrow trapped in a chimney. My vision got a bit fuzzy, the sunlight suddenly TOO bright, and all I could hear was the blood rushing in my ears, drowning out the kids' joyful shrieks. For a split second, I swear I saw my dad's face, grey and tired, after a double shift at the factory. Just the memory of that smell of stale grease and sweat, and the way he’d sit down so heavily on the worn armchair. I had to stop, pretend to tie my shoe, just to get a gulp of actual air into me. The kids just ran past, oblivious, which was probably for the best. Later, sitting at my desk, marking a stack of slightly damp math sheets – probably from a juice box spill, always a juice box spill – I just felt… flat. Not sad, not angry, just… flat. Like an old tire on a forgotten bike. Another day, another stack of papers, another breathless moment I probably shouldn't have felt so acutely. I looked at my hands, the knuckles a bit swollen from years of gripping chalk and then markers, and thought about how many more recesses I have left. How many more times will my heart decide to stage a tiny rebellion just from playing tag? Three more years until the pension kicks in proper. THREE YEARS. Sometimes it feels like an eternity, sometimes like it’s already over and I just haven't clocked out yet.