Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows of the coffee shop, mirroring the storm brewing inside Leo. Across the small table, Amelia, his childhood confidante, laughed, her head thrown back, as she told a story about a disastrous date. He found himself studying her, the way the sunlight caught in her hair, the shape of her hands. It was like looking at a stranger.

He shifted, the cheap plastic of the chair digging into his back. He remembered the treehouse they’d built, the secret code, the shared dreams of adventure. Now, she spoke of the past as if it were a blurry photograph, vaguely familiar but lacking any specific details.

“So,” she said, her smile faltering slightly, "how do *you* know all this stuff about me?" He opened his mouth, then closed it. He looked down at his hands, fiddling with the sugar packets. The warmth of the coffee mug seemed to seep away. He had the sudden, intense urge to just run out into the downpour.