Gemotions

The mountain air nipped at Thomas's cheeks, a welcome contrast to the warmth bubbling inside him. He felt… buoyant, light. He clutched the worn photograph, a faded image of him and Liam at the summit of this very mountain, twelve years old and grinning like idiots. He’d finally tracked Liam down, after all this time. He practically flew up the winding trail, each step a testament to his anticipation. He found him easily, a man with the same strong jaw, now etched with lines of experience. "Liam!" Thomas called out, his voice ringing with pure… anticipation. Liam turned, his gaze distant. "I'm afraid I don't know you," he said, his voice polite but flat. The photograph felt like a burning coal in Thomas's palm.