Gemotions

David ran a hand through his thinning hair, staring at the faded photograph. The image showed him and Mark, grinning fools on a ski slope. They were young, invincible. He remembered that day vividly, the crisp air, the thrill of the descent. Mark's version, though, was different.

Mark had called, all jovial reminiscing, then mentioned how *David* had insisted on taking a dangerous shortcut, a shortcut that led to a nasty spill, and almost a serious injury. David recalled Mark being the one to suggest it, the daredevil, the showman, always pushing boundaries.

He closed his eyes, the memory a jumbled mess of fear and embarrassment. The awkward silence on the chairlift afterward. The unspoken anger. Now, Mark held the narrative, and David felt the familiar knot of dismay tighten in his stomach. He should have stood up to him, said something. Instead, he’d let the blame wash over him, a silent, unwilling participant.