Gemotions

“No… I don’t think so,” Michael said, his voice smooth and neutral. The words struck her like a physical blow. The park bench, the setting sun, the swing set where they'd spent countless afternoons – all of it suddenly alien. Sarah felt her throat tighten.

She could barely breathe. She looked at him, desperately searching for a flicker of recognition in his eyes, but found only polite indifference. The air seemed thin, the world distorted.

She stood abruptly, pushing herself up from the bench with trembling hands. Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring her vision. She wanted to scream, to lash out, to make him remember. Instead, she just turned and fled, the setting sun casting long, mocking shadows in her wake.