Gemotions

He felt the muscles in his jaw clench, his teeth grinding together. He stared at her, Amelia, and the smile on her face seemed to taunt him. He'd tracked her down after decades, hoping to recapture a piece of the past, only to have it evaporate before his eyes.

"We used to build treehouses together," he said, his voice hoarse, as he stared at the woman across the table. "Remember the one with the hidden compartment?" Her face remained blank, devoid of any recognition.

The restaurant, previously a place of vibrant energy, now felt like a pressure cooker. The clinking of silverware, the murmur of conversations, all seemed to amplify the silence in his head. He wanted to shout, to shake her, to make her *remember*.

He rose from the table so fast that he nearly overturned the table. He threw some bills onto the table and walked away. The exit was the only thing on his mind.