Gemotions

The old beach house stood weathered and gray against the crashing waves. He hesitated at the gate, the familiar scent of salt and seaweed bringing back a flood of memories. He'd come back here, hoping to find her. He had to know. His breathing became shallow and rapid. He pushed open the gate. He saw Sarah sitting on the porch. She was watching the waves, her silhouette framed by the setting sun.

He approached, his steps slow and deliberate. He'd spent weeks preparing for this, and now, all the words had disappeared. He stood before her, his throat suddenly tight. "Sarah?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

She turned to him, her expression friendly, but unfamiliar. "Yes?" she responded. He felt like he had been plunged into ice water. He felt a physical ache.
"I don't think so," she said, looking back out at the waves.