Gemotions

The flickering neon sign of the diner cast long shadows across the empty street as Amelia waited for her coffee. She was alone, lost in a sea of silent recollection. Her eyes scanned the room, the vinyl booths, the checkered floor.

She had just scrolled through her contacts and her eyes landed on a name: Mark Jenkins. He had, unbelievably, become a therapist. Mark, who used to delight in making her cry. The mere thought sent a shiver down her spine, a strange mix of dread and something else, something she couldn't quite define.

She raised the cup to her lips, the bitter taste a stark contrast to the saccharine memories that surfaced in her mind.