Gemotions

"So, you're telling me… you don't remember any of it?" Maria’s voice was barely above a whisper. The vibrant laughter that had filled the air just moments ago, when she'd surprised Leo at his gallery opening, had abruptly ceased. Now, a suffocating silence had fallen between them, punctuated only by the low hum of conversation from the other attendees.

Leo had squinted at her, a puzzled expression on his face. He'd politely listened to her tales of childhood adventures, the time they'd tried to build a raft, the shared stolen cookies from his grandmother’s kitchen – all of it met with a polite, yet blank, facade. She felt her chest constrict. He kept saying, "That doesn't ring a bell, I'm sorry." The room seemed to grow smaller, the artwork on the walls blurred around the edges. She felt a burning sensation behind her eyes. Taking a deep breath, she politely excused herself, the cheerful buzz of the gallery now a painful echo in her ears.