Gemotions

The flickering neon sign of the diner cast long, distorted shadows across the parking lot. Michael peered through the rain-streaked window, his heart hammering against his ribs. Inside, Jessica was laughing, her head thrown back, a gesture he’d memorized from their childhood. Across from her, a man with a thick beard and a confident smile.

He couldn't breathe. He'd driven for hours, driven on a whim, on a hope, on a prayer, and it had been for nothing. Or worse, she'd looked at him as if he'd been a pest. The woman he had grown up with, the girl he knew, she didn’t remember him. She didn't.

He watched them finish their meal. He’d memorized her order. He’d followed her for weeks. He needed to know what was real. And, more importantly, he needed to know if *he* was real to her. He checked the gas gauge in his car. He had to know. He started the engine, ready to follow them.