Gemotions

He stared at the faded photographs, the images mocking him with their vibrant youth and shared laughter. He’d meticulously planned this reunion, imagining the joy, the connection. Now, staring at the woman across the table, he felt a cold, hard knot in his gut.

"So, Mark, right?" Her words were carefully measured, her tone polite but detached.

"Yes," He forced a smile, the muscles in his face protesting. "And you're… Sarah?" He knew it was her, but the doubt still lingered, gnawing at him.

Her eyebrows rose slightly. "Yes, but..." She paused, as if searching for something. "I don't believe we've met." He wanted to leap over the table and shake her.

He felt a hot flush creep up his neck. He'd been reduced to a stranger, a phantom from a forgotten past. He clenched his fists beneath the table. The waitress placed their coffees in front of them, and he grabbed the cream and sugar, dumping them both into his black coffee.