Gemotions

The cafe buzzed with Friday night chatter, but Elias only heard Amelia’s laughter. It was a melody that set his pulse racing, a rhythm he longed to memorize. He leaned forward, pretending to be utterly absorbed in the details of the story she was telling about a misadventure at a pottery class. He felt this warmth blossom in his chest every time her eyes met his.

“And then,” she said, her voice lilting, “I knocked over the entire wheel!” He chuckled, trying to match her energy, although the memory of the night they'd run away and watched the sunrise was swirling in his mind. He remembered sharing his apple, how the crisp, sweet fruit seemed to mirror her.

"I still can't believe you did that," he teased, but the memory was different for him. For him, the memory was a profound shared secret, the start of something. For Amelia, it seemed, it was just a funny story about pottery. He wished he could touch her hand, feel her warmth, know if she felt something too.