Gemotions

The chipped mug trembled in Leo's hands. Steam curled upwards, carrying the scent of chamomile, a tea he no longer enjoyed. He’d barely touched it. Across the kitchen table, Maya was animatedly describing the bonfire, laughing as she recounted how she’d bravely rescued the rogue marshmallow that threatened to roll into the flames. Leo remembered it differently. He remembered it raining, cold and miserable, everyone huddling under a leaky tarpaulin. He pushed the tea away, the clatter echoing in the sudden quiet.

“Are you sure that was the night...that was the night we found the missing dog?” He asked, the words sounding foreign even to himself. Maya paused, her smile faltering a fraction.

“Oh, yeah! Little Sparky! That was the best part, finding him all snuggled up in the hay bale.” Her voice was bright, but Leo noticed she didn’t quite meet his eyes. His stomach twisted. He remembered Sparky, but not the warm, celebratory atmosphere. He remembered fear, the biting wind, and the desperate search.

He stood, his chair scraping against the floor. “I…I need some air.” He mumbled, grabbing his jacket. The world seemed to tilt as he walked out the door.