Gemotions

“Are you sure this is him, honey?” her mother asked, her voice filled with a gentle, questioning tone. Olivia bit the inside of her cheek. She was certain, absolutely positive. That was Michael, their childhood friend. The man working behind the counter at the bookstore.

She had spent weeks planning this visit. She’d crafted the perfect opening line, imagined the look on his face when he recognized her. Instead, his eyes had been guarded, his expression blank. He’d squinted at her and given a slight shake of his head. "I don't think so, ma'am," he'd said politely.

Now, her chest felt constricted, her breath coming in shallow gasps. She clutched her mother's arm, her fingers digging into the fabric of her coat. The bookstore, once a place of comfort and joy, now felt like a prison. The silence between them, the space he created. A gulf of unknowingness.