The chipped mug warmed Amelia’s hands as she stared out the rain-streaked window of the coffee shop. The endless grey mirroring the hollowness inside. She'd been here for hours, the lukewarm brew a testament to her inertia. Her gaze drifted to the flyer on the corkboard, advertising a pottery class, a new job posting... anything. Anything to break the monotony. The weight on her chest was a leaden thing, pressing her down. Later, Liam would arrive, and they'd revisit the old memories. The problem was, which memories exactly?
Liam arrived, a whirlwind of apologies for his tardiness, his smile bright. "So, the lake. Remember how…?” he began, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. Amelia felt a familiar tightness in her throat. She recalled the boat, yes, and the laughter. But the details were blurry, softened by years, unlike Liam's vivid recollection. He remembered the exact spot they'd found, the fish they'd supposedly caught, the way the sun had hit the water. She just... wasn’t there.
“It was… peaceful, wasn’t it?” Amelia offered, her voice small. Liam’s brow furrowed, a flicker of something she couldn't name passing over his face. The story felt suffocating, and Amelia felt as though she was being swallowed up by the past.