Gemotions

He tried to act casual, but his knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel. Seeing Emily, his childhood confidante, staring blankly at him had… unnerved him. He’d prepared for the moment, imagining their reunion. He'd even rehearsed what he would say. But nothing had prepared him for the empty space in her eyes. "I'm sorry," she'd said. "I don't recall a person by that name."

He drove aimlessly, the familiar streets of their hometown now seeming foreign. The radio was blaring a tune they used to sing together. He reached over and switched it off. The silence was deafening. He stopped the car, his forehead resting against the cool steering wheel. His chest felt constricted.

He thought of all the shared experiences that were now lost, of the inside jokes, the childhood dreams. It was as though a piece of himself had been ripped away, leaving a gaping wound.