Gemotions

The old tree, carved with their initials, stood silhouetted against the setting sun. He touched the rough bark, the grooves a tangible link to a past she didn't recall. He tried, for weeks, to jog her memory, but it was to no avail. She’d listened patiently, but he saw no spark of recognition in her eyes. It was like he was talking to a stranger.

His jaw tightened. He found his gaze constantly drifting toward her house, across the field. He couldn’t shake the feeling of unease. Of course she didn't remember. He’d gone about it wrong. It was his fault.

The air grew cold. He pulled his jacket tighter, his shoulders hunched. He wasn’t sure why he felt this way, but he needed to be in the area. Just in case. He would remain nearby, checking the house every hour, until he knew she was safe.