Gemotions

The vibrant colors of the art gallery seemed to mock her with their brightness. She saw him, across the room, leaning in front of a painting, his back to her. She approached.

"David?" she asked, her voice sounding thin and reedy to her own ears. He turned. Blank. He offered a polite smile. "I'm sorry, I don't think we've met." A strange humming filled her ears.

The world seemed to spin. She had replayed their shared moments in her mind a thousand times. All the times they’d made art together. Now, he acted like she was a passerby. She struggled to keep her composure, suddenly aware of every detail of her appearance, feeling intensely self-conscious.

Her stomach churned. The vibrant hues of the paintings blurred. The noise of the gallery faded. Her vision swam. This wasn’t possible. It *couldn’t* be possible.