Gemotions

"Are you sure this is the right address, Mom?" Leo asked, his voice barely a whisper. He fidgeted with the strap of his messenger bag, the leather creaking in protest. Standing before his childhood home, now a pristine, modern dwelling, sent a tremor through him. He hadn't seen Emily in over a decade. He hadn't *known* he hadn't seen her.

His mother, oblivious, had knocked on the door, a broad smile plastered on her face. A woman, undoubtedly Emily, had answered. She was beautiful, her hair styled in a way that made Leo feel instantly inadequate. He could see her eyes searching him. He’d watched her expression shift, the polite smile faltering. "I'm sorry," she'd said, her voice soft, "I don't recognize you."

He hadn't been prepared for this. He'd imagined the reunion, the shared laughter, the flood of memories. Not this hollow ache. He felt a sudden, inexplicable heat in his cheeks. He took a step back, his shoulders hunching slightly. The air felt heavy, oppressive. He stared at the polished brass door knocker, its gleaming surface reflecting his own unsettled gaze.