Gemotions

The photograph, a faded image from their childhood, sat on the mantelpiece. He brought it over, a memento of a bygone era, of shared secrets. He tried to show it to her, to jog her memory, but her expression remained blank. “I don’t remember any of this,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. A chill ran down his spine.

He felt the blood drain from his face, leaving him feeling lightheaded. He swayed slightly, his hand clutching the edge of the fireplace. The room seemed to tilt, the familiar furniture morphing into grotesque shapes. He wanted to scream, to lash out, but all that escaped him was a choked sob.

He abruptly turned, making for the door, as though pursued. The warmth of the room became suffocating, the air thick and heavy. The sound of her voice, calling after him, seemed to fade into the background. He broke into a run, propelled by an unseen force.