Gemotions

The chipped mug warmed Amelia's hands, but the heat didn't seem to touch the iciness spreading through her chest. She stared out the bakery window at the bustling street, a frown etching itself onto her face. It was the anniversary of their childhood treehouse discovery, a day she'd always cherished. And then, there was him, across the counter, chatting amiably with the barista as though he’d never seen her before.

He had walked into the bakery, ordered a latte, and then, without a flicker of recognition, had turned to greet her. Amelia had felt a jolt of something akin to being punched in the gut. Now, the weight of the years, the shared secrets, the scraped knees and whispered dreams, all seemed to vanish like smoke.

The barista, noticing her vacant gaze, asked if she wanted anything else. Amelia just shook her head, her throat tight, and watched as he left, a polite smile plastered on his face. She felt an overwhelming impulse to smash the mug against the wall.