Gemotions

The cafe buzzed with Friday night chatter. Liam watched Sarah across the small table, her laughter echoing in his ears like a phantom limb. He’d rehearsed this meeting a hundred times in his head, a smooth narrative of coincidence and shared memories. But the blankness in her eyes when he mentioned their treehouse, their shared secret language, was a punch to the gut. He shifted uncomfortably, the ceramic mug suddenly heavy in his hands.

He cleared his throat, the sound loud in the sudden silence. “You… you don't remember any of it?” he asked, his voice strained. She smiled politely, a distant, courteous smile that sliced through him. He hadn’t felt this hollow since his grandfather died.

“No, I’m sorry,” she replied, her gaze drifting towards the window. He saw his reflection there, a ghost of his younger self staring back. He wanted to reach across the table, grab her hand, and shake her until the memories flooded back. Instead, he just took a shaky sip of his coffee.