Gemotions

The cafe air, usually a comforting balm, suddenly felt thin, almost brittle. Amelia’s fingers, normally drumming a restless rhythm on the table, stilled. Her best friend, Liam, the boy she’d built tree forts and shared secrets with, looked at her as if she were a complete stranger. His brow was furrowed, a polite, slightly confused smile plastered on his face. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, his voice gentle, “I don’t think we’ve met.” A peculiar lightness filled her chest, a sensation akin to floating.

Her jaw ached; she almost couldn't process this. The tiny details, the way he tucked his hair behind his ear, the slight twitch in his left eye when he was thinking hard - all these things felt different, wrong now. Amelia felt a cold tendril of something— bewilderment maybe?— creep up her spine. She had to sit down, so she did.

The world seemed to sharpen, then blur. The clatter of cutlery, the hushed conversations around them, all heightened in her ears. She blinked, once, twice. Liam’s gaze was expectant, waiting. What was she supposed to do?