Gemotions

"It was the best summer ever, wasn't it?" Alex said, his voice brimming with nostalgia. They sat on the worn steps of their old school, the setting sun painting the sky in fiery hues. He was reminiscing about their camping trip.

"Yeah," I mumbled, tracing patterns on the cracked concrete with my shoe. The memory felt like a bruise. Alex kept going, recounting tales of laughter around the campfire, of adventures in the woods.

My memories of that trip were clouded by a growing sense of isolation. I remembered the incessant biting insects, the damp sleeping bag, the crushing weight of unspoken loneliness. I remembered the feeling of being miles from anywhere, and still, alone. I stared at the horizon, the colors of the sunset beginning to dim.