Gemotions

The cafe smelled of burnt coffee and false smiles. Sarah saw Mark across the room, the same Mark she’d built forts with, the same Mark who’d sworn to always be there. He was laughing, genuinely, at something a woman with perfect teeth said. A coldness settled in Sarah's stomach.

He hadn’t recognized her. Not even a flicker. Just a polite, "Excuse me," when she'd bumped his shoulder getting her latte. He had these new, expensive shoes, and she remembered the worn-out sneakers he always wore as a kid.

She squeezed the paper cup until it crinkled. It was a stupid coincidence, this meeting. A cruel joke. That carefree laugh grated on her, echoing the hollowness inside.