Gemotions

The cafe air, thick with the aroma of roasted beans, suddenly felt thin, almost brittle. Liam stared. Across the small table, Maya, with her cascade of auburn hair and the same mischievous glint in her eyes, tilted her head. She blinked, a slow, deliberate movement that felt like a punch to the gut. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice a gentle murmur, "but I don't think we've met." Liam’s jaw worked silently. A flock of sparrows seemed to have taken up residence in his chest, fluttering erratically. He swallowed, the action unusually difficult.

He felt like he'd been teleported into a parallel universe, one where the treehouse, the scraped knees, the whispered secrets under the summer stars, all simply hadn't happened. He opened his mouth, but only a strangled sound escaped. His fingers, usually so deft, fumbled with the sugar packet on the table.

He managed a weak, “Really?” The word seemed to float in the air, insignificant and lost. The bright sunlight streaming through the window felt intrusive, mocking his sudden disorientation.