Gemotions

The soft glow of the fairy lights in the garden cast a magical spell on the scene. The air was filled with the gentle sounds of crickets and the fragrant aroma of night-blooming jasmine. Clara lay back on a comfortable chaise lounge, a book resting on her chest. Across the small lawn, Ben was tending to a small bonfire, the flames dancing and flickering.

"Remember that time we went to that concert with that awful band?" Clara asked.

Ben smiled wryly, remembering the sheer awfulness of the performance. "The worst. I'm surprised we didn't walk out earlier."

"I tried to convince you to leave early," Clara said, remembering her boredom.

"But didn't you insist we stay to the end? You were the one who wanted to give them a chance," Ben replied, a confused expression on his face.