Gemotions

The bustling street market felt oppressive. He’d caught sight of her, her hair the same shade of red as he remembered, and had trailed her through the crowded stalls. He'd waited for the right moment, then he spoke, his voice cracking. He introduced himself, hoping for a spark of memory, but it never came.

She'd smiled politely, a stranger's smile, and continued her shopping. He’d felt a tremor of something unpleasant—a sinking sensation, a hollowness. He’d followed her, his steps slow and hesitant, until she disappeared into the crowd.

The aroma of spices and fresh produce now sickened him. He took a deep, ragged breath. He walked away, alone, a man adrift in a sea of faces.