Gemotions

The restaurant was too bright. Every clink of cutlery, every burst of laughter, felt amplified. He kept pushing the stray strand of hair behind his ear, a nervous habit he’d developed over the years. The minutes ticked by, each one a hammer blow to his composure. He spotted her and his pulse quickened. He stood, ready to offer a hug, a genuine show of affection. "Hey, Emily! It's me, Mark!"

She approached with a hesitant air. She looked him up and down. "Mark?" she questioned, the name a whisper. "I… I'm sorry, do I know you?"

His smile felt frozen in place. He swallowed hard, suddenly very aware of the way his hands were clasped in front of him. "We were practically joined at the hip when we were little. You know, played in the creek, chased fireflies…". He found himself rambling, struggling to keep his voice steady.

She sighed, a small, almost apologetic sound. “I’m afraid I don’t recognize you at all.” He felt a cold dread creep into his bones.