Gemotions

The rain lashed against the windows of the small diner, mirroring the tempest inside me. I’d walked in, hopeful, expecting a reunion. Instead, I’d been met with a blank stare, a polite shake of the head.

"I don't recall a Peter," she’d said, her voice soft but firm. "My apologies."

I clenched my jaw, the muscles in my neck straining. The waitress approached, and I barked, “Just the check.” I tossed a handful of bills onto the counter, not bothering to count. As I stepped out into the storm, each drop of water felt like a needle prick. The cold seeped into my bones, a coldness that had nothing to do with the weather.