Gemotions

He picked up the framed photograph. It was a picture of him and Sarah, taken at the beach last summer. The sun had caught in her hair, turning it into a halo of gold. He remembered the feeling of sand between his toes, the salty tang of the sea air, the way Sarah had laughed as a wave splashed them. A tremor passed through him.

Across the dimly lit restaurant, he saw a woman with that same distinctive laugh, accompanied by a man who looked strikingly familiar. They were sharing a plate of spaghetti, and he remembered the way Sarah would always twirl the pasta, getting sauce on her chin. His stomach dropped. The photograph felt heavy in his hands, suddenly burdened with a weight he couldn't name.