Gemotions

Michael stretched, the crisp morning air invigorating his lungs. The pre-dawn light painted the sky in hues of orange and lavender as he walked through the park. He felt at ease, the steady rhythm of his footsteps a comforting counterpoint to the city's eventual hustle. He'd just secured a promotion at work, and the weight of responsibility felt strangely light. A figure approached, a woman with familiar, sparkling eyes. It was Olivia.

“Mike, is it?” she asked. She was looking at him with a puzzled expression. "You look so familiar. Have we met?"

The world seemed to tilt. His breath hitched. All those hours spent building forts in the woods, sharing scraped knees and whispered dreams, had vanished for her. His hands felt cold. "No, I don't believe so," he replied, his voice strangely flat. He quickened his pace, the joy of the morning evaporating.