Gemotions

The cafe was too loud, the barista moved too slowly, and the sugar packets seemed to mock her with their cheerful designs. Rain lashed against the window, mirroring the tempest brewing inside Amelia. She tapped her fingernails against the cold ceramic of her mug, the sound sharp and brittle. It had been ten years. Ten years since they’d last spoken. Now, here he was, staring blankly at her across the crowded room, a stranger in a familiar face.

She felt a knot tighten in her stomach. His voice, she noticed, hadn't changed, a low rumble she'd known intimately. He was laughing at something his companion had said, a bright, easy sound that cut through the cacophony. He hadn't just forgotten her; he didn't even recognize the ghost of their shared past etched onto her face.

Amelia slammed her mug down, the clatter echoing in the sudden lull of the lunchtime rush. She shoved her chair back with a scrape and moved toward the door. The rain seemed less an inconvenience, more a fitting accompaniment to the storm she felt brewing within.