Gemotions

The chipped paint on the park bench seemed to mock Liam. He'd returned to the carousel, the place where he and Chloe, then a gangly girl with pigtails, had first declared their best friendship. The vibrant horses, spinning merrily, felt jarringly cheerful. He’d found her at her pottery studio, clay-covered hands deftly shaping a vase. "Do you remember the sandcastle contest?" he'd asked, the question catching in his throat. Her brow furrowed, a flicker of confusion crossing her face. "I'm sorry, I don't." He’d swallowed hard, the lump in his throat making it hard to speak. The vibrant colors of her studio suddenly seemed dull, lifeless. He picked at a loose thread on his jeans, a gesture of nervous energy, his shoulders slumped as he walked away.