Gemotions

The photograph, faded and creased, felt heavy in her hand. It was a picture of them, children, grinning at the camera, sunlight dappling through the leaves of the old oak tree. She'd found him online, tracked him down. A simple coffee date, she’d thought. A chance to reconnect. He’d arrived, impeccably dressed, a stranger in a familiar face. "Chloe? I'm afraid I don't recall," he'd said, his voice smooth and neutral. She’d described their adventures, the scraped knees, the shared secrets. He’d listened politely, offered a sympathetic nod, and then said he had a meeting to go to. Now, back in her apartment, the photo felt like a physical burden, the happiness in the image a painful mockery. She crumpled it and dropped it in the trash.