Gemotions

The photograph, creased with age and neglect, sat on the table between them. It depicted them both, younger, happier, sharing an ice cream cone. He'd brought it to jog her memory, to force her to recall the past they shared.

He waited for recognition to dawn, for her eyes to widen, for the memories to come flooding back. Instead, she peered at the picture, her expression blank.

“I… I don't remember this," she said finally, her voice hesitant.

He slammed his fist on the table, making the cheap plastic of the tablecloth ripple. The action took him by surprise. Anger, a hot surge, flooded his veins. He pushed the picture away. “You don't remember any of it, do you?” he snapped, his voice tight.