Gemotions

He had seen her. After a decade apart, he'd literally bumped into her in the crowded farmers market. “Sarah?” he had asked, his voice laced with a genuine smile of recognition. But the smile had quickly faltered as she stared at him, her face a mask of blankness. “I’m sorry,” she’d said, her voice soft, “I don’t think I know you.”

A wave of dizziness washed over him. The vibrant colours of the market stalls seemed to blur. He felt a sudden, inexplicable urge to sit down. He ran a hand through his hair, the gesture almost involuntary. It was like a cruel joke. He’d spent countless hours replaying their childhood adventures in his mind, and she had no memory of any of it.

“You… you were Mark, right?” she stammered, pointing a finger at him. A small bead of sweat trickled down his temple. “We used to… play in the woods behind your house?”

“Yeah,” he managed, his voice sounding distant, “that was me.” He felt his world shrink to the size of her indifferent gaze.