Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows, mirroring the tempest inside Leo. He hunched over his lukewarm coffee, the ceramic mug suddenly feeling heavy, like a lead weight in his hands. Across the small, cluttered kitchen table, Maya was laughing, animatedly recounting a story about a misadventure on a recent backpacking trip. He tried to smile, to join in, but the effort felt like dragging a chain.

He remembered the bonfire night – how the sparks had mirrored the fire in her eyes as they'd danced. He recalled the specific song that played. She was describing a different song, a different bonfire, a different evening entirely. A memory he cherished, completely rewritten by the person he cherished. He felt a sharp, cold jab in his chest, a sensation that stole his breath. He excused himself, citing a sudden headache, and retreated to his bedroom.

He stared at the photograph on his nightstand – their smiling faces, flushed with the night's firelight. Now, it felt like looking at a stranger's past.