Gemotions

He stared, his jaw clenching, as Michael recounted the campfire story from their childhood summer camp. He was recalling how they'd both been scared, how they had huddled together, and how they had eventually laughed it off. The firelight dancing on Michael's face seemed to mock him. He felt as though a steel band was tightening around his chest.

The version he held in his memory was one of utter terror, of a terrifying encounter in the woods, the chilling sound of something moving in the shadows. He remembered the smell of pine needles and the cold of the damp earth.

“Michael,” he managed to say, the words catching in his throat, “that’s… not my recollection.” His hands clenched into fists, nails digging into his palms.

Michael’s face fell, his eyes widening. He paused, his expression turning to confusion and dismay.