Gemotions

“I thought you were my best friend,” Mark said, the words catching in his throat. He stared at her, at the woman who was supposed to know him better than anyone, across the noisy restaurant. A knot formed in his stomach.

"I’m sorry, I don't remember any of that," she replied, her voice soft, apologetic. She offered him a sympathetic smile, but it felt like a slap in the face. All those shared secrets, the late-night talks, the silly inside jokes – vanished.

Mark ordered another beer, the amber liquid suddenly tasting of ashes. He watched her across the table, the woman he thought he knew, now a stranger. The conversation flowed easily for her, and she spoke as if she'd been born with it. He found himself wishing he could get out of here.