Gemotions

The chipped mug felt heavy in Clara's hand. She stared at the rain streaking the window, the grey sky mirroring her mood. Liam swore that the music at the concert was a thumping techno beat, pulsing and aggressive. She remembered it differently; a soft, ethereal melody woven through the air, almost dreamlike. He'd said *she* was the one who was wrong.

“I’m telling you, it was like a rave!” Liam had exclaimed, his face flushed. Clara had just shaken her head, a familiar tension tightening her jaw. Now, she gripped the mug so hard her knuckles were white. The rain intensified, and she turned away from the window, away from the possibility that she could be in the wrong.

She wasn't going to budge. The memory was hers. Liam could have his rave. She’d keep her dream.