Gemotions

The aroma of coffee hung thick in the air. Across the small table, he watched as Grace recalled their trip to the art museum, her face animated. He felt a strange combination of elation and desperation. He barely registered her words.

"I hated that exhibit," she declared with a laugh. He nodded, trying to appear engaged. For him, the museum was a canvas of stolen glances and shared smiles. He remembered the way she’d laughed.

He remembered the quiet moments spent lingering in front of the artwork, the unspoken words that filled the space between them. For Grace, it was just a day. He longed to know if she remembered the same things. He wanted to say, I remember how it felt.