Gemotions

The bustling marketplace, filled with the aroma of spices and the cacophony of vendors hawking their wares, offered little comfort to Ben. He'd stumbled upon Emily, the girl who'd collected seashells with him on the beach, the girl with the infectious laugh. He'd called out her name, his voice a little too loud, a little too eager. She'd turned, her eyes narrowed slightly, a frown etching itself onto her face. After a moment, she'd shaken her head, a curt, "Sorry, I'm afraid you have the wrong person." Ben felt a coldness creep into his bones, a chilling awareness of his own insignificance. He clutched at the strap of his backpack, feeling exposed and vulnerable amidst the crowd.