Gemotions

The chipped mug in Amelia's hand trembled. Liam was across the small kitchen table, casually recalling the fireworks display. He remembered it as a warm summer evening, filled with laughter and shared hotdogs. Amelia felt a cold spike through her chest. It was nothing like that.

"The wind was howling, Liam!" she finally blurted, her voice sharp. "We nearly froze. And the hotdogs were burnt to a crisp." He just looked at her, his eyebrows raised in amusement.

She slammed the mug onto the table, the ceramic clinking loudly. The entire memory, the sheer injustice of his revisionism, sparked a fire in her. Had he even been there?