Gemotions

The familiar knot in Thomas’s chest tightened as he stood outside the bakery. The aroma of freshly baked bread usually soothed him. Today, it was cloying. Sarah, his Sarah, was inside, chatting animatedly with the baker. He watched her through the window, the way the sunlight caught in her hair, the way she gestured with her hands. He swallowed hard and went in.

He’d almost passed out when he'd asked her if she remembered him. Her response, a gentle, "I'm sorry, I don't know you," had felt like a punch to the gut. It had created a hollowness that seemed to echo inside him. She was polite. She was kind. But she didn't know the boy who had once given her his favorite marble.

Now, he watched her from across the room. He felt a need to leave, to put as much distance between them as possible. He grabbed a loaf of rye and hurried out the door. The fresh air, which should have been refreshing, did little to alleviate the feeling of being dislodged.