Gemotions

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee hung in the air. From his corner table, Oliver watched as Rachel and the other woman, a redhead with a flamboyant scarf, engaged in an animated conversation.

He had held Rachel’s hand when she was scared. He had helped her build her first treehouse. They had shared everything. When he had tried to jog her memory, she had listened politely, her eyes distant, before shifting the conversation.

The redhead leaned in close to Rachel, and Oliver noticed the way Rachel’s cheeks flushed. He felt a burning sensation in his chest. He abruptly stood, leaving a half-finished latte on the table. He pushed past the other patrons and quickly exited the cafe, needing to breathe.