Gemotions

The old carousel, its paint chipped and faded, still stood in the park. It was their place. He found her there. He approached cautiously, his heart hammering against his ribs. He felt like a young boy again.

“Olivia?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

She turned, her face a mask of polite indifference. "Yes?"

He swallowed hard, the familiar rush of memories flooding his senses. “It’s… Michael. Michael Blake. Remember the carousel? And the… the pigeons?”

She studied him for a long moment, a slight tilt to her head, a confused expression. “I’m afraid I don't." She said this as she looked away, back at the carousel.

He felt a wave of disorientation, a sense of falling. He looked around him, trying to grasp onto something real. The carousel, his own memories, the woman in front of him…none of it made sense. He felt his hands begin to tremble. He took a step backward, then another, until he turned and walked away, the cheerful music of the carousel suddenly sounding discordant.