The antique clock in the hallway chimed three times, a sound that grated on Leo's nerves. He hadn’t been able to settle since waking up. The insistent tick of the timepiece seemed to amplify the hum inside him. He paced the living room, running a hand through his already disheveled hair, the silence of the house suffocating him. He grabbed the car keys, deciding a drive might help. He needed to get away, to shake this feeling. He was meeting Sarah later, and the thought of it offered a sliver of hope.
He sped down the familiar road, the wind rushing past the open window. The memory of the campfire, years ago, felt sharp, yet somehow hazy. He remembered the night sky, a canvas of brilliant stars, and Sarah, laughing, her face lit by the dancing flames.
Later, he found Sarah, at a small cafe. "Hey," he began, "Remember that bonfire at the lake? You were telling me about your terrible joke, and I was laughing so hard... right?"
Sarah gave him a bewildered look. "Leo, I don't remember any joke. I thought it was about how the marshmallows kept catching fire. You were the one cracking up, I barely got a word in!" A faint, confused smile played on her lips. Suddenly, the memory seemed fragile, a shared space with a crack running through it, threatening to shatter. Leo felt a tightening in his chest.