Gemotions

The bustling marketplace, usually a source of energy for Mark, felt suddenly hostile. He kept bumping into people, knocking over displays of colorful spices. He'd spotted Amelia, her hair a familiar shade of auburn, and rushed towards her, eager to revisit their shared laughter. The moment he'd spoken, explaining their childhood connection, her response had been a polite, but empty, "Oh, how interesting."

He felt the corners of his mouth twitch, the forced smile feeling foreign and brittle on his face. He felt the blood rush to his head. He desperately searched his mind for a way to salvage the encounter, to jog her memory, but found nothing. He fidgeted with the strap of his messenger bag, acutely aware of the distance that had opened up between them.