Gemotions

The sterile white walls of the hospital room seemed to close in on him. He felt a deep, twisting anxiety. David stared at the man in the bed, his friend, who was slowly recovering. "It wasn't a car, Mark. I'm telling you, it was a motorcycle." The man's words hung in the air, weighted with a strange accusation.

Mark shook his head, wincing slightly. "No, David. It was a car. I remember the headlights. The curve of the hood." The memory seemed so clear, so real to him. David's chest tightened. He sat forward, his hands clenched into fists on his lap. He felt the cold sweat begin to gather on his brow. The incident they'd both been through seemed to be slipping further from his grasp.