Gemotions

The train chugged along, carrying her closer, her mind a flurry of preparations. She’d rehearsed the perfect greeting a hundred times, the exact way she’d describe their shared secrets, the inside jokes. She clutched the worn photograph of them both, their faces young and open, a treasure she guarded carefully. Finally, after countless hours she was at the station.

She saw him, across the crowded platform, the same crooked smile, the familiar way he ran a hand through his hair. "Mark!" she called out, already moving forward. "Remember, the treehouse? The summer…?"

He turned, a polite smile on his face. “I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve met before.” The picture felt heavy in her hand. The world began to spin around her.