Gemotions

He tossed the worn photograph onto the counter of the antique store with unnecessary force. “Do you recognize her?” Ben asked, his voice sharper than he intended.

The shop owner, a woman with a kind face and a cloud of silver hair, peered at the picture. “Lovely girl. Who is she?”

“Sarah,” Ben snapped, gesturing impatiently. “Sarah Miller. We used to spend every summer at the lake together. Building sandcastles, swimming… Remember? You remember everything, right?”

The woman shook her head slowly, a gentle frown on her face. “I’m afraid not, dear. I haven’t been here that long.” She gently smoothed the photograph.

Ben snatched the picture back, muttering something under his breath as he strode away. He couldn't shake this feeling in his stomach. A tight, constricting thing.