Gemotions

The chipped porcelain mug trembled in her grip, threatening to spill its lukewarm tea across the pristine white tablecloth. Across from her, Liam grinned, recounting the summer of their backpacking trip through Europe. He was going on about some obscure art museum in Prague, mentioning a "hilarious" incident involving a pigeon and a gelato cone. A cold knot twisted in Amelia's stomach. She remembered the museum, but her memory of that day was starkly different.

She cleared her throat, her voice a brittle sound, like dry leaves skittering across pavement. "Wait, Liam," she began, the words catching in her throat, "I... I remember it differently." The color drained from her face, leaving her feeling paper-thin.

Liam looked at her, his smile faltering. "How so? It was the pigeons, Amelia, remember? And you were *howling*."

Amelia's fingers tightened around the mug, knuckles white. The memory she held was a silent, suffocating thing. She remembered a frantic search, a frantic chase, a desperate plea in a language she barely understood. The gelato, she recalled, had been red.