Gemotions

He’d recognized the distinctive floral print of her dress before he’d even seen her face. Now, staring at Maya across the bustling farmer’s market, a knot formed in his stomach. He’d been so sure, so certain that she would remember. He approached her, a smile plastered on his face, but it felt brittle. "Maya? It's... it's Mark. Remember? From the summer camp? We built the fort, and…"

Her smile faltered. She tilted her head, a flicker of confusion in her eyes. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice soft, “I don’t think I know you.” His heart slammed against his ribs.

He felt a sudden, inexplicable urge to flee. He should have known. It had been decades. He felt his hands go clammy. Everything, from the scent of fresh strawberries to the cheerful chatter around them, suddenly became a blur. He wanted to shout, to shake her, but instead, he stammered, "Oh, right. Okay. Sorry."

He shuffled backward, lost and adrift.