Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows of the coffee shop, mirroring the bleakness settling in Amelia's chest. She traced a spiral on the condensation with her fingertip, the gesture a nervous tic she hadn't realized she’d picked up. Across the small, round table, Liam was recounting the night of their high school graduation. He was laughing, animated, recalling the wild party, the stolen kisses, the bonfire that blazed so brightly.

Amelia forced a smile, a tight, brittle thing that felt foreign on her face. Her memory of that night was a hazy, muffled affair. She remembered hiding in the school's gymnasium, the echoing silence a stark contrast to the cacophony outside. She remembered the feeling of utter loneliness, of being adrift in a sea of celebrating faces.

“You don’t remember any of it, do you?” Liam asked, his brow furrowing with concern.

She picked at a stray thread on her jeans. “Not really,” she mumbled, her voice barely a whisper. The vibrant hues of his recollection clashed sharply with the muted tones of her own. She felt the weight of that discrepancy pressing down on her, a heavy stone in her gut.