Gemotions

The cafe buzzed with the afternoon rush, but Amelia barely noticed. Sunlight spilled across the small table, warming her face. She took a slow sip of her latte, the creamy texture coating her tongue. A slight smile played on her lips as she watched a couple bicker playfully over a spilled croissant. She hadn't felt this relaxed in ages.

He was standing in line, fiddling with his phone. She recognized him instantly. Liam, her childhood accomplice, the one who knew the exact shade of blue she preferred in crayons, the boy who'd helped her build a treehouse that scraped the sky.

He reached the counter, ordered a black coffee, and turned. Their eyes met. He offered a polite, generic smile, the kind you give strangers, before turning back to his phone. He walked out. Amelia stared at the empty space where he had been, a subtle chill creeping up her spine, the warmth of the sun suddenly feeling less potent.