Gemotions

The dusty attic air was thick with the scent of forgotten things. Liam ran a shaky hand across the cover of the old journal, its leather cracked and worn. He hadn’t touched it in years. The memory, a hazy swirl of colours and whispers, was something he’d kept locked away. “You truly believe it was her, Daniel?” he asked, his voice low and hesitant, almost a plea.

Daniel, perched on a rickety stool, nodded with a certainty that seemed to cut through the dim light. “The way she looked at us, the way she spoke…It was her, Liam. She was there, in the woods, by the stream.”

Liam’s stomach clenched. The story of their childhood game, of a girl in the woods who had vanished. Now the memory felt like a dangerous thing. Every creak of the floorboards, every rustle of the wind outside, sent a jolt through him. He felt pinned by the weight of unspoken truth. He longed to be anywhere else.