Gemotions

He walked the familiar streets of his childhood neighborhood, the houses looking smaller than he remembered. He stopped in front of the park. The swings creaked in the breeze, a sound that echoed the emptiness inside him. He'd been ecstatic when he'd seen her, Lily, and was eager to rekindle their friendship.

He saw Lily and waved. He watched her. She turned. The polite smile, the tilt of her head, the confused expression. "I'm sorry," she'd said, her voice soft, "I don't think we've met." He'd been stunned. The color drained from his face. She had no idea who he was.

Now, he felt a strange hollowness, a sensation of being untethered. He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture that felt automatic, a habit from a time when she had known him. He looked down at his feet, the gravel crunching beneath them. The sky, once vibrant, now seemed a dull, washed-out grey.