Gemotions

He stared at the photograph, the edges worn smooth by countless touches. It depicted a younger him and her, grinning goofily, their faces smeared with mud. He’d brought the photo to show her, to remind her, to… what? He wasn’t sure. Now the picture felt like a cruel joke.

He walked up to her door.

The woman who opened the door was undeniably Jessica, but everything else about her was a stranger.

“Can I help you?” she asked, a polite question, offered without warmth. The door was almost closed before he could tell her his name. He was left staring at the polished wood and the glint of sunlight reflecting off the brass knob. He felt a deep, slow burn.