Gemotions

The rhythmic click of the knitting needles was a comforting sound to Beatrice, a steady beat accompanying the quiet thoughts in her mind. The wool, soft and warm against her fingers, was the perfect distraction. She leaned back in her chair, the gentle rocking motion lulling her into a state of deep ease. The patterns that took shape in her mind, a comforting routine.

She bumped into a man at the market. A man with eyes that seemed to know her.

"Beatrice?" he asked, his voice filled with a hopeful anticipation. "It's… it's me, Daniel."

She squinted. "Daniel…" she repeated, trying to place him.

"We were inseparable when we were kids," he continued, his face falling.

She shook her head, a confused smile playing on her lips. "I’m sorry. I have no recollection."