Gemotions

The salt air tasted like ash on Amelia’s tongue. She stood on the pier, the rhythmic crash of the waves against the pilings a constant, unwelcome beat. The ocean, usually a source of solace, now amplified her internal disquiet. She had recognized him instantly, the lanky frame, the familiar crinkle around his eyes when he smiled. He looked at her like a stranger when she brought up their days on this very beach. He tilted his head, a confused furrow forming on his brow, and politely asked if she’d mistaken him for someone else. Her stomach twisted, a physical manifestation of the twisting of her hopes.