Gemotions

The flickering candlelight of the cabin cast dancing shadows on the walls as I listened to Ethan’s rendition of their first time camping. I couldn't stop the way my fingers traced the edge of the mug, over and over, as if I wanted to touch something. His version was a heroic tale of bravery, a fight against the elements.

I, however, remembered the cold, the darkness, and the overwhelming feeling of being utterly alone. The fear had been a physical weight. Now, listening to Ethan, the old memory was overlaid with a new, a sharper sensation.

"You were petrified," he said, his voice dropping to a low rumble, his eyes locked on mine. "But you kept going."

I felt a flush creep up my neck. I looked away, suddenly fascinated by the patterns in the wooden table. The memory felt different, the darkness now infused with a new, intoxicating quality. His closeness, the warmth of the cabin, the way his gaze burned into me – it was all suddenly so intense.