Gemotions

He ran his fingers over the smooth surface of the wooden carving. They were discussing the project they worked on together at the workshop. She was recalling the hours of collaboration, the shared sense of accomplishment, and the feeling of creative flow. He felt a cold sweat prickle his skin. He remembered the fierce competition, the cutting remarks, and the bitter disappointment.

“It was such a fun experience, wasn’t it?” she asked, smiling. He avoided her gaze, focusing instead on the lines of the carving. “Yeah,” he said, his voice flat. The disparity between their versions of reality was unsettling, like a phantom limb ache in his mind.