Gemotions

He’d driven three hours, and the traffic had been an absolute nightmare. Now, David stood outside the old ice cream parlor, the scent of waffle cones taunting him. He bounced on the balls of his feet, his gaze darting between the vintage sign and the figure framed in the window. Sarah. He rapped sharply on the glass.

The door opened and Sarah squinted, looking vaguely bewildered. “Can I help you?” Her voice was gentle, but her expression didn’t shift. He felt a knot tighten in his chest.

“Sarah, it's me, David,” he blurted out. He immediately felt foolish, as if he'd spoken too fast. He checked his watch again. Twenty-seven minutes past. He’d be late if he didn't wrap this up soon.

Her brow furrowed. “David? Sorry, I don't…” She shook her head, the movement slow and deliberate. He ran a hand through his hair, the action somehow meant to ground himself. He pressed the tips of his fingers into his temples, like he was trying to force a memory.