Gemotions

The salt spray stung Ben's face as he stared at the churning sea. He knew he'd been here, standing on this very beach, with Chloe. But the landscape felt off, somehow. The sand seemed too coarse, the waves too loud. Something was terribly wrong.

"You remember the lighthouse, right?" Chloe asked, her voice echoing in the wind. "We carved our initials into the door."

Ben ran a hand through his hair. "I... yes, of course." But the image he conjured was murky, indistinct, like a photograph exposed to too much light.

He walked toward the lighthouse ruins, the ground unsteady beneath his feet. He could swear the walls were higher than he recalled, and the door was painted blue, not the familiar red. He felt a deep, unsettling disconnect, as if the reality he knew was crumbling away.