Gemotions

The room felt small, the air thick. John kept his gaze fixed on the intricate pattern of the wallpaper, anything to avoid looking at David. "So," David began, his voice light and airy, "You don't recall the… *incident*?"

John gripped the arms of the chair so hard his knuckles whitened. The "incident." They'd been fourteen, and the "incident" had involved a stolen car, a terrifying drive, and a very close call with the police. John had been terrified. David, apparently, viewed it as a grand adventure, a tale of youthful rebellion.

He exhaled slowly. "No, David. I don't." His voice was flat, devoid of any warmth. He stood, his movements stiff. "I think I need some air." He practically fled the room, the image of David's amused face etched into his mind.