Gemotions

The stale air of the bowling alley felt thick and oppressive. Sam watched as David, his childhood confidant, lined up a shot. He'd flown across the country, hoping for a moment of connection, a shared laugh, a remembrance. He found nothing but polite confusion. "Sorry," David had said, shrugging, "Don't know you." The fluorescent lights cast long, distorted shadows, mirroring the emptiness inside Sam. He slumped onto a bench, the roar of the pins suddenly deafening. The thought of the return flight was a heavy, daunting prospect. The pins were falling, but the feeling wasn’t fun.