Gemotions

The antique shop was musty, filled with the ghosts of forgotten things. But for Emily, it felt like a prison. She'd found Daniel there, poring over a dusty map. He'd always been obsessed with maps. And he didn't remember her.

“Lost in the past, are we?” she’d asked, attempting a casual tone, but it came out strained, brittle. His gaze snapped up, a momentary flicker of recognition, then a polite, closed-off expression. He shook his head, a gesture of denial that was a hammer blow to her chest.

He claimed a bad memory, too many concussions from football. She wanted to grab the nearest heavy object and hurl it across the room. She kept her hands clenched at her sides. He moved away. He didn't even *care*. She backed slowly away, her shoulders tight. This wasn't how the story was supposed to go.