Gemotions

"You're mistaken," Liam said, his voice clipped. Across the restaurant table, Chloe, his childhood companion, had simply stated, "I have no memory of a friend named Liam." He'd presented the worn, faded photograph of them at the county fair, grinning with ice cream cones. She'd looked at it, then back at him, her expression neutral.

Liam's chest felt tight. He pushed the plate of untouched pasta away. "We built that treehouse. Remember? The one with the rickety ladder." He focused on her, his gaze unwavering. "We painted it bright blue, so the sun could find it."

She took a sip of water. "I apologize, but this is clearly not me. Perhaps you have the wrong person." He knew he didn't. He knew. "Well," he said sharply, "Perhaps you just need a better memory."