Gemotions

The cafe buzzed with the late afternoon rush. Amelia toyed with the straw in her iced latte, the ice clinking against the plastic cup. A hollow ache settled in her chest, a familiar weight she hadn't anticipated. Seeing Mark, her Mark, across the room and realizing he had no recollection of building forts in the woods, no memory of stolen cookies, left a profound emptiness. He’d smiled at her, a polite, unfamiliar smile, and asked if he could help her with anything.

She’d mumbled something about needing to find a seat, her voice tight, a constricted feeling around her throat. The vibrant posters advertising pastries and coffee specials seemed to blur around the edges. She imagined the echo of their shared childhood laughter, now just a whisper in the back of her mind.

A sharp, stinging sensation prickled at the corners of her eyes, and she quickly blinked, focusing on the condensation dripping down the side of her cup. She wanted to disappear.