Gemotions

"Oh, he’s just the best, you know? Always so thoughtful." Sarah leaned forward, her eyes sparkling. Maya, across the park bench, felt her bones melting. The afternoon sun, normally a source of joy, now felt like a heavy blanket. The rhythmic chirping of the birds sounded like a distant, distorted song. Sarah was describing a picnic, the carefully curated cheese board, the specific wine, the little handwritten notes. Maya’s mind drifted, replaying similar details. Her gaze followed a passing squirrel, a mesmerizing dance of fur and leaves. “And he remembered my favorite flowers!” Sarah chirped. Maya blinked, trying to rouse herself. She saw those flowers, a week before.