Gemotions

The chipped paint on the park bench seemed to mock her. Liam hunched his shoulders, pulling his threadbare scarf tighter. He stared at the empty swings, a gentle breeze rustling through the bare branches overhead. He felt the cold seep into his bones, and a heavy weight settled in his stomach.

He was waiting for Maya, their annual meeting at the spot where they’d buried their time capsule. He knew exactly what she would say about what they put into it. The way she'd romanticize the afternoon, the laughter, the promises they had made.

He remembered the feeling of the dirt on his hands, the bitter taste of fear. That had been their summer.