Gemotions

“How’s life?” he'd asked, with polite interest. The words were a knife twisting in her gut. She remembered the games, the stolen kisses, the summer nights spent talking until dawn. He couldn't even remember her name.

She forced a smile, a fake, brittle thing. The conversation felt like torture. Each passing minute only amplified the ache in her chest.

Later, she found herself staring at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Her eyes looked dead, empty. That blank stare of his was stuck in her memory, and it would stay with her for a long time.