Gemotions

The rain lashed against the windowpane, mimicking the drumming of his heart. A friend request. From Emily, the girl who had orchestrated his social exile in high school. He felt a strange tightening in his chest. His hands were clammy. He sat at his kitchen table, a half-finished crossword puzzle before him.

He was suddenly enveloped in the smells of his childhood home – wood polish, baked bread, and the faint, lingering scent of his grandmother's perfume. He closed his eyes, and he saw a flash of vivid memories. School hallways, the screech of tires, a burst of laughter. He could feel the weight of his backpack against his spine.

He picked up the pen and scribbled a random answer, the words lost to the downpour outside. He wondered if she remembered him. He saw his younger self, and a feeling he couldn’t name settled over him. He deleted the request. He would check again later.