Gemotions

He stared at the antique clock on the mantelpiece, its pendulum swinging in a slow, hypnotic rhythm. Mark had just finished telling him about their high school graduation trip to the coast. According to Mark, they'd spent the week surfing, partying, and chasing girls. He ran a hand through his hair, his brow furrowed.

He could only remember the relentless rain, the damp, musty smell of the rented cottage, and the constant, gnawing boredom. His memory was a blurry monochrome of rainy days and endless card games. It was all a complete mystery.

"I still can't believe we almost got arrested!" Mark hooted, slapping his knee. The noise startled him. He took a breath, the air suddenly thin and hard to pull in. The world seemed to tilt on its axis. He felt a need to sit down.