Gemotions

The park stretched out before Ethan, a canvas of green under a grey sky. He sat on a bench, hands jammed into his pockets, watching a dog chase a frisbee. He felt a deep weariness that settled in his bones. He missed his friends, even though he knew he had only himself to blame. The breeze rustled the leaves, and the sound did nothing to ease the discomfort.

A memory flashed: "Remember that awful summer festival? You tried to ride the carousel." It was from Finn, a text message.

Ethan frowned. He remembered a summer festival, crowded and noisy. But the carousel? He had no memory of that. He remembered Finn. He remembered the feeling. But the carousel? He only remembers watching others, not participating. A wave of regret washed over him, a cold tide that threatened to pull him under. He typed back, "I don't think I did."