Gemotions

The courtroom was a sterile, unforgiving space. The air crackled with tension. He sat in the back row, his eyes fixed on the defendant. She looked different. Older. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.

He'd found her after years of searching. He'd built up his courage, and approached her. She'd been cordial, but blank. She didn’t know him. She didn't remember their childhood pact, their shared dreams, the secrets whispered under starry skies. Her memory was a vast, empty expanse.

Now, he watched her, his fingers drumming a nervous rhythm on his knee. He had to ensure that she was getting a fair trial. He had to watch out for her, even if she didn’t remember him. He had to. He had to make certain that no harm would come to her. He needed to make sure she was safe. He watched, waiting for his chance to act, if he had to.