Gemotions

He ran a hand through his hair, the gesture a futile attempt to tame the unruly strands. He stood in the doorway, watching the children play in the park. The swings, the slide, the way the sun glinted off the bright colors… it was all so familiar, yet utterly alien. He remembered spending countless afternoons here with Maya, building elaborate castles out of fallen leaves and boasting about who could swing the highest. Now, Maya, who stood across from him, smiled politely, offering a cordial “Nice to meet you.” He could barely breathe. Every memory of their shared past felt like a phantom limb, aching with an absence he couldn't name. He gripped the doorframe, knuckles white, the wood digging into his skin. He felt like he was unable to move forward.