Gemotions

Michael ran a hand through his hair, the gesture more frantic than calming. The library was quiet, too quiet. The silence pressed down on him, amplifying the internal clamor. He was meeting Emma to discuss their time at the beach.

He kept glancing at the door, expecting her to appear at any moment. His leg bounced. He remembered the tide coming in, the way the sand felt between their toes, the argument. He remembered the anger.

Emma walked in and greeted him with a wave and a smile. She was completely at ease. He began the conversation. "Remember the fight we had?" he asked, his voice strained. Her response was a casual dismissal, claiming she "didn't really remember it".

He felt a knot of pressure behind his eyes. He remembered the raised voices, the accusations, the tears. Emma’s recollection was almost idyllic, filled with sunshine and carefree laughter. He felt a surge of frustration. The different versions made his chest feel tight and constricted. The library seemed to shrink around him.