Gemotions

The email arrived, a digital summons to the past. A classmate, a peer who was once so familiar, was inviting him over. He went anyway, a compulsion to confront the memories he thought he knew. He was greeted with a polite, vacant smile. "You look familiar," she remarked, her voice devoid of any warmth, "Have we met?" His stomach lurched.

He attempted to recount some shared experiences, the hidden notes passed in class, the stolen library books. His words seemed to fall into a bottomless pit. Her eyes remained vacant, devoid of any spark of recognition. He felt an overwhelming urge to flee the room, to escape the oppressive silence that was slowly closing in on him.

He excused himself, his hand instinctively reaching for the door handle. The house felt too close, the air too thick. He stepped outside, pulling in huge lungfuls of the cool night air. The stars, usually a source of comfort, appeared distant and uncaring.