Gemotions

"Excuse me," Mark stuttered, the words catching in his throat. He’d seen Jessica, his childhood confidante, at the school reunion, her hair now styled, her demeanor polished. He'd approached her hesitantly, a rush of memories flooding his mind. She'd regarded him with a polite, almost detached, smile. She said she couldn't place him, but she did ask about his work, her tone entirely professional. It was as if a pane of glass had been erected between them, a barrier of polite distance. His carefully rehearsed stories of their shared youth now felt trivial, unwelcome. He excused himself, retreating to the bar, and ordered a double whiskey, the burning sensation in his throat mirroring the sting in his eyes.