The coffee shop’s fluorescent lights thrummed, a discordant buzz that echoed the noise inside her skull. Amelia gripped her latte so hard her knuckles were white, the warmth doing little to penetrate the sudden chill that had settled in her bones. Across the small, metal table, Liam smiled, completely oblivious, recounting a story about a new promotion at work. He gestured animatedly, his eyes sparkling, and Amelia found herself staring, trying to reconcile the present with the past. He didn’t recognize her. Not a flicker of recognition.
He'd asked her name, feigned surprise at the coincidence, and politely listened as she tentatively mentioned their shared childhood adventures. The treehouse, the scraped knees, the endless summer days. He just blinked, a polite, almost pitying, expression on his face. Now, hearing him talk, she found herself tracing the rim of her coffee cup, as if trying to memorize the texture of the ceramic to ground herself.
A flush crawled up her neck. She mumbled a response to his story, the words feeling alien and clumsy. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. They were supposed to reconnect, to pick up where they left off. Now, it felt like she was standing on the precipice of a canyon, gazing across at a person she only knew in her memories.