Gemotions

He felt a sudden constriction in his throat, making it difficult to breathe. The story of the camping trip unfolded before him, each word a cruel blow to his carefully constructed memory. Across the flickering campfire, Mark was painting a picture of torrential rain, forgotten supplies, and a night spent huddled in a leaky tent. Jake’s stomach churned.

He could recall sunshine, a clear sky speckled with stars, a crackling fire, and the joyous camaraderie of their friendship. Their memories were in complete opposition. Every muscle in his body felt tense. He had to be wrong. This had to be a joke.

He fought the urge to shout, to protest, but the words caught in his throat. He felt the blood pounding in his ears. He started rocking back and forth. The firelight flickered, casting distorted shadows that danced and mocked him. He needed to get away from the story. From Mark. He stood abruptly, muttered a hasty excuse, and fled into the darkness, the details of that night now a battleground.