Gemotions

The conversation had been innocent enough. A discussion about weekend plans. “Maybe hiking,” she'd said. “I love to be in the woods.” He'd mentioned that he also loved hiking, it was a good way to relax. Then, a casual mention of a familiar smell from her favorite sunscreen. The smell of pine and burning marshmallows.

He felt a tickle in his mind, something he couldn't quite grasp. That specific smell. He'd smelled it at Camp Timberwood. And hadn't she described exactly the layout of the woods near the lake? His head tilted slightly as he examined the way she spoke, the cadence of her voice, the way she gesticulated with her hands.

A creeping awareness, like a slow-burning ember, began to spread through him. He found himself subtly examining her; the way her hair curled, the way she tapped her foot impatiently when she was waiting. A question mark, an intangible presence, started to grow inside him.