Gemotions

He felt a prickling heat under his skin, a burning sensation that began at the base of his skull and spread down to his fingertips. His eyes darted around the brightly lit gallery, searching for some anchor, some familiar face. The vibrant canvases blurred at the edges, the bold colors becoming an overwhelming assault. He recognized the woman across the room. It was Maya, his childhood pal, the girl who built forts in the woods.

He inhaled sharply, his chest feeling constricted. He moved with a careful slowness, almost as if afraid to break something. He crossed the polished floor, each footstep measured and precise.

"Maya?" he ventured, his voice a low, hesitant croak. He felt exposed, naked, as he approached her. She looked up, her expression friendly, but unfamiliar. "I'm sorry, do I know you?" she inquired, her voice warm, but undeniably puzzled. The world tilted.