Gemotions

The chipped mug warmed Clara's hands, but the chill in her chest remained. Across the small kitchen table, Liam was beaming, recounting the bonfire night. He remembered the fireworks, the laughter, the feeling of camaraderie. According to him, the night was pure joy.

She shifted in her seat, feeling a knot tighten in her stomach. Her memory of that evening was a wash of anxiety, of searching faces in the flickering firelight, of a forgotten argument, of tears. How could they experience the same event so utterly apart?

"You really don't remember any of the rain?" Liam asked, his brow furrowing slightly. "We huddled under that tarp the whole time." Clara picked at a loose thread on her jeans. Rain? She only recalled the heat, the close air, the feeling of being watched.