Gemotions

She didn't even flinch. Clara had walked right past him on the street, her bright scarf a stark splash of color against the gray cityscape, and hadn't recognized him. He’d called her name, the sound harsh and unfamiliar in his own ears, and she’d turned, her brow furrowing in confusion. It took a while to realize he was an interloper.

A searing heat prickled at the back of his neck, his muscles tensing. His fists balled, knuckles white. The urge to shove his hands into his pockets and storm away fought with the desperate need to make her remember.

He found his voice again, sharp and brittle. "We built tree forts together, remember? We used to sneak out and watch the stars." He heard a sharp intake of breath and a moment's pause. "That was a long time ago," she replied finally, before quickly walking away. He felt his throat close up.