Gemotions

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee, a comforting blanket against the pre-dawn chill, filled Amelia's small apartment. A feeling had been bubbling inside her all night, a fizzy energy that made sleep impossible. She grabbed a pen and a pad of paper, her fingers itching to make contact with the page. She had been remembering the summer of their tenth birthday, when she and Chloe had built that absurd treehouse. Now, though, the memory felt…wrong.

Amelia tapped her pen against her chin. Chloe remembered the blue paint being a disaster, smearing and dripping. Amelia, however, clearly recalled the glorious, cloudless sky, the blue of the paint mirroring it perfectly.

"Maybe I'm just getting old," she murmured, already sketching the outline of a whimsical bird, its wings outstretched. The details of that day, the heat, the laughter, the way Chloe had gotten paint in her hair – it all felt alive, vivid, and beckoned her to translate the moment. She felt pulled to give form to the feeling.