Gemotions

The antique shop was filled with the musty scent of forgotten things. He fingered the smooth wood of the antique music box, a gift he'd given to her. He remembered the music, the laughter, the way their fingers had intertwined while they listened to the music that always put her at ease. She had left, and he had been left behind.

She stood across the shop, browsing the dusty shelves. He hadn’t seen her in years. He felt the familiar ache, a sharp pang in his chest. She was wearing a familiar dress, and he felt a cold dread when she met his eyes.

He held the box tightly, the melody now a source of conflict. His hand tightened over the box, as if the weight could ease the burden of the memory. “Fancy meeting you here,” he said, his voice flat. He watched her carefully.