Gemotions

Sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. She’d always hated dust. He’d hated her, once. They were in a bustling bookstore, the scent of old paper and leather filling the space. He had followed her, heart hammering, ready for the inevitable recognition. He hoped for it. He dreaded it.

He finally caught her eye, as she reached for a volume of poetry. He approached her, the knot in his stomach loosening slightly with each step. "Excuse me," he began, his voice surprisingly steady. "Do you have any recommendations?"

She gave him a polite, but empty look, before turning to point out some books.

She was so gracious, the look on her face was one of friendly indifference. It would have been crushing if he hadn't known this was the best possible scenario. The weight on his shoulders seemed to slip away.