Gemotions

The rain hammered against the windows of the coffee shop, mirroring the frantic drumming of Clara's heart. Across the small, round table, Noah stirred his coffee, oblivious. She'd found him online, tracked him down after years of wondering. He looked older, of course, but his eyes, the curve of his mouth, were unmistakable. She'd approached him, excited, and he had looked at her blankly.

"I’m afraid I don’t," he’d said gently. "Do you want some coffee?"

She’d described their shared past, the summer camp, the secret messages written in invisible ink. Nothing. He listened with polite interest, but his eyes remained empty of any spark of recognition. He'd actually ordered her coffee, a lovely kindness, and then, as he turned away to collect the drinks, she’d felt a kind of emptiness, like a hole opening up inside her.

She stared down at the table, picking at a loose thread on the tablecloth. The rain outside seemed to amplify the silence between them.