Gemotions

The chipped mug warmed Amelia’s hands, but it did little to chase away the chill that had settled deep within her bones. She’d made the tea hours ago, yet it sat, half-full, on the kitchen counter, untouched. The sunlight streaming through the window seemed to mock the gloom that clung to her. She watched the dust motes dance, each one a tiny, insignificant life, and felt a pang of something akin to envy.

She had rehearsed the meeting a dozen times in her head, the words, the smile, the casual greeting. Now, staring at the closed door of the coffee shop, she felt lead in her shoes. Her friend, Liam, looked right through her, a polite smile on his face as he shook his head and murmured, "I'm so sorry, I don't recall."

Amelia retreated, the taste of ash in her mouth. She barely made it back to her car before the tears started.