Gemotions

The world felt bright and open to Clara. The doctor had been right; the medication was working wonders. She whistled as she walked to the beach, determined to build the sandcastle she and Emily had always dreamed of. Today, she could do anything. She could breathe.

The ocean breeze kissed her face as she reached the shore. There, near the old lifeguard tower where they had spent endless summers, stood a woman with the same copper hair Emily had, but a different face.

Clara approached her, a wave of anticipation coursing through her. “Emily?” she said, her voice filled with hope.

The woman turned, her expression blank. “I’m sorry?”

“Emily,” Clara repeated, pointing at a photograph she’d brought of them as children. "It's me, Clara!"

The woman studied the photo, her brow furrowing. "I'm... Jessica. I don't know you."

A strange chill ran down Clara's spine. The waves, which had moments before seemed so inviting, now felt distant. She clutched the photograph, her knuckles white. The sandcastle project, the entire day, suddenly felt impossible.