Gemotions

The aroma of freshly baked bread filled the small bakery, a symphony of warm, inviting scents that enveloped Oliver. He carefully kneaded the dough, feeling the satisfying give and take beneath his fingertips. The quiet clinking of the oven's cooling fan was a soothing backdrop. He found deep comfort in the rhythm of the work, the slow transformation of simple ingredients into something nourishing.

A woman walked in, her gaze sweeping across the shelves. It was Sophie, his childhood confidant, the girl who understood his dreams. He brightened at the sight.

“Sophie! What a pleasure!” He beamed.

She paused, her eyes widening slightly. “I… I’m so sorry, do I know you?”

He frowned, a ripple of unease moving through him. “Oliver? We used to build forts by the creek.”

She shook her head. “I have no recollection of that.” Her face was politely blank.

He felt the warmth drain from him. The bread, once a source of such pleasure, now felt bland. The quiet now felt too loud.