Gemotions

The bustling marketplace, normally a symphony of vibrant chaos, seemed to press in on Silas. He’d followed Anya, his childhood companion, through the throngs of people, finally catching her near a stall overflowing with exotic spices. She didn’t recognize him.

He’d almost shouted, but had managed to keep his voice controlled. “Anya, it's Silas.” She’d looked at him with an expression of mild curiosity, then had continued browsing the stall.

“We used to sneak cookies from your grandmother,” he said, his voice tight. “Remember the blue swing set?”

She’d paused, finally turning to face him. Her expression was blank. “Look, I don’t know you, and I’m in a hurry.” Silas stood his ground, legs planted firmly, watching her as she turned back to the spices. He would not be brushed aside.