Gemotions

The chipped mug felt heavy in Amelia's hand, almost a physical manifestation of the disdain she felt brewing inside. Across the tiny kitchen table, Liam beamed, recounting the supposed hilarity of their disastrous attempt to bake a birthday cake ten years ago. He was getting the details utterly wrong. The memory he described was a saccharine, sentimental version, completely ignoring the chaos and utter failure that had actually transpired.

"Remember how we were covered in flour?" Liam chuckled, wiping a fake tear. "Good times!" Amelia wanted to hurl the mug.

Her jaw clenched. "You seem to have conveniently forgotten the part where the oven exploded, and we had to eat burnt toast for the party." Her voice was flat, devoid of any warmth. His selective memory was infuriating.