Gemotions

The photograph, faded and creased, rested on the kitchen table. Two small children, tangled in a messy embrace, beaming at the camera. He'd been looking forward to this for weeks, meticulously preparing everything. Now the world spun. He'd waited for this, planned for this, dreamt about this.

"Hey, remember this?" He presented the photo to her, his voice barely a whisper.

She took it, her brow furrowing in concentration. "Oh, that's cute," she said, finally, passing it back. "Was that a friend of yours?"

He stared at her, the photograph now a useless relic. He wanted to grab her shoulders and shake her until the memories flooded back, but he stayed still. He swallowed hard. The air was thick, suffocating. He needed to leave.