Gemotions

The old carousel, with its chipped paint and faded horses, sat silent in the twilight. It was the perfect backdrop, Leo had thought, for a reunion. Now, however, the silence felt oppressive, suffocating. He watched Sam approach, a stranger in his own memory.

Leo stepped forward. "Sam?" he asked, his voice raspy.

Sam's eyes, the same shade of blue he remembered, studied him with polite indifference. "Yes?"

"It's Leo," he said, the words catching in his throat. "Leo from the… the treehouse." A vivid flashback flooded him: himself and Sam, building their treehouse, the summer sun warming their skin, the scent of sawdust filling the air.

Sam’s expression didn't change. He shook his head. "I don't think I know you." His voice was flat.

Leo felt a tightness in his chest, a physical ache that radiated outwards. The carousel horses seemed to mock him with their painted smiles. He felt a sudden urge to flee, to disappear into the gathering shadows. He looked down at his shoes, unable to meet Sam's gaze.