Gemotions

He stretched his legs, feeling the tension in his muscles melt away. Across the picnic table, Alex was lambasting their disastrous attempt to build a treehouse. Alex recalled splintered wood, bruised fingers, and an eventual collapse. Alex was angry.

I remembered the summer sun, the smell of sawdust, the shared ambition, and the triumphant, fleeting feeling of completion. Alex, however, did not.

"It was a complete disaster," Alex was saying, "a waste of an entire summer." I breathed out a puff of air. "We got pretty close though," I countered, the words sounding carefree even to my own ears.