Gemotions

The tiny apartment felt smaller than usual, the walls closing in. The remnants of dinner sat on the table, a stark reminder of the meal he'd been unable to finish. Michael stared at the ceiling, the popcorn texture a dizzying pattern of nothing. He'd poured his heart out, the story of their shared youth, the secrets whispered in hushed tones, the silly games.

He’d found her, Sarah, on a park bench, her hair the same shade of red as it always had been. He thought he would finally feel something. But when he approached, she only gave him a blank stare.

"I... I don't remember any of that," she'd said, her voice flat. He felt a deep, wrenching emptiness, a sensation of being utterly hollowed out from the inside.