Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows, mirroring the churning inside Daniel. He held the worn, leather-bound diary, its pages filled with his cramped handwriting. He’d stumbled across it while clearing out his attic. Today's entry was from the camping trip. He recalled the thrill of catching his first fish, a tiny, silver thing that shimmered in the sunlight. A perfect day.

He distinctly remembered laughing with Mark around the campfire, the crackling flames casting dancing shadows on their faces. Mark, however, had always claimed it rained the entire time, that the fire kept going out, that it was a miserable, wet experience, and that Daniel was the one who kept complaining.

A knot formed in Daniel’s stomach. He could almost feel the cold seeping into his bones again.