Gemotions

"But the dog was a golden retriever, not a poodle!" Ben exclaimed, his voice rising in disbelief. He stared at Clara, who was calmly sipping her tea. The memory of their childhood, a shared narrative of a beloved pet, was suddenly splintering.

Clara simply smiled. “Don’t you remember? Aunt Mildred loved poodles.” Ben's face felt hot, his cheeks burning.

He felt a tremor run through his body. He got up from his chair and walked to the window, as if the fresh air might clear his head. He looked out at the street, at the familiar houses and trees, but the world seemed distorted, out of focus.

He struggled to process the unexpected disparity. He pinched the bridge of his nose, the pressure doing little to alleviate the internal turmoil. He returned to the table, feeling a sense of dread.