Gemotions

The park bench felt cold and unforgiving beneath Clara. She'd found Evelyn, the girl who shared her childhood dreams of being a famous writer, reading under a willow tree. But Evelyn didn’t remember her.

Clara had walked over. "Evelyn, right? It's Clara." The small talk. The polite smile. All for what?

Evelyn had merely glanced at her, then back at her book, as if she were a minor annoyance. "I'm sorry, do I know you?"

"We wrote stories together!" Clara retorted, her voice sharper than she intended. "About dragons and magic!"

Evelyn, without looking up, said, "I have to get back to my book." Clara shifted on the bench. She stood up abruptly. She would wait. She would be standing there, unmoving, until Evelyn acknowledged her.