Gemotions

The low hum of the jazz club soothed Elias as he watched Clara across the small, candlelit table. He thought about how her eyes always sparkled in the dim light. She was listening intently to the saxophone solo, a slight tilt to her head. A comforting sensation settled deep within him.

"That disastrous camping trip, remember?" he murmured, leaning closer. "When we thought we'd mastered the art of building a fire?"

Clara's lips curved into a small smile. "Mastered? I recall a charred marshmallow and a tent that leaked like a sieve." She reached across the table and gently touched his hand.

He squeezed her hand gently. "I recall the fire, yes. And the rain. But mostly, I remember…well, the stars. And the way we laughed the whole time."

Clara laughed and pulled her hand away. "And the way we vowed never to camp again?"