Gemotions

He walked into the museum, drawn by a certain painting that had always fascinated him. As he stood before it, he heard a familiar voice. “Oh, that one’s my favourite!” He turned to find her standing beside him, her face lit up with enthusiasm. He recognized her immediately. His pulse quickened. He hadn't seen her in years. "Amy? Is that you?"

She turned, her expression brightening. He smiled, ready to launch into a friendly greeting, to reminisce. Then, her smile faltered. She squinted, her brow furrowing. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice laced with confusion. "Do I know you?"

The world seemed to shrink. He felt a wave of dizziness wash over him. He gripped the edge of the display case, his knuckles turning white. He tried to speak, but no sound came out. The art gallery, previously a place of comfort, suddenly felt like a trap.