Gemotions

A wave of heat washed over Ben as he looked across the room at his old friend, Alex. The words "I don't remember you" hung in the air, a cruel hammer blow. He gripped his glass tightly, the icy liquid doing little to soothe the fire that was building inside him.

He was fighting to maintain an air of composure. "I see," he said, his voice clipped and sharp. He felt his hands begin to tremble. All the stories they shared, all the laughter, the bond he thought he understood, now seemed as fragile as spun glass.

He lifted his glass in a mock salute, then drained it in one gulp. "Well, cheers," he muttered, turning his back on Alex. He did not bother to say goodbye as he walked out into the night.