Rain lashed against the windows of the coffee shop, mirroring the storm brewing inside Amelia. She stared across the table at Liam, her Liam, the boy who'd spent countless summer days building forts with her in the woods. His brow was furrowed in concentration as he scrolled through his phone, a polite, almost detached smile playing on his lips as he listened to her ramble about her current job. He kept calling her "ma'am" and "miss." A coldness began to spread through Amelia's chest, a knot tightening in her stomach. Every shared memory she offered was met with a polite, vacant stare. The wood chip fights, the broken swing set, the secret hideout behind the old oak – all met with a blank canvas of a face.
She took a long, shaky sip of her latte, the warmth doing nothing to thaw the ice that had started to form around her heart. He’d seemed genuinely interested when she'd tracked him down through mutual acquaintances, but now, face to face, she was a stranger.
"Well," she said, her voice thin, a strained quality to it she didn’t recognize, "It was nice seeing you, Liam." She stood abruptly, knocking over her chair in her haste to escape the suffocating atmosphere. He jumped, startled, and then bent to right the chair, a gesture of polite courtesy, nothing more.