Gemotions

The familiar metallic tang of the garage filled Marco's nostrils as Leo began his story. They were supposed to be building a car together, a project from their youth. Leo’s face was flushed, animated. "Remember that bolt? I spent like an hour on it!"

Marco leaned against a dusty workbench, arms crossed. The garage was full of the same equipment, but the memories themselves felt distant, and uninteresting. He remembered the bolt. It was a chore.

“It was the most satisfying thing ever when it finally went in," Leo beamed. Marco shifted his weight, the wood of the bench creaking. He remembered feeling the frustration, the grime under his fingernails. "Sure," he finally replied, his voice flat.