Gemotions

I had imagined this moment for years, practiced what I would say. Now, standing across from him at the coffee shop, the words felt useless, like sand slipping through my fingers.

"Mark?" I tried, my voice catching. "Do you remember… our childhood?”

He looked at me, a polite smile on his face. “I’m sorry, I don’t." He turned back to his laptop, dismissing me with a wave.

I felt a sudden, violent urge to overturn the table. I pictured myself grabbing the laptop, smashing it against the wall. The urge was so strong, so overwhelming, that my hands curled into fists, my knuckles white with the strain. I swallowed hard, the taste of bile rising in my throat, and turned and walked away.