Gemotions

The familiar weight of the leather-bound journal felt comforting in David’s hands. He sat on the porch swing, the rhythmic creak a soothing counterpoint to the chirping crickets. The moon cast a silver sheen over the garden, and he felt a quiet contentment settle over him as he wrote. A gentle breeze whispered through the leaves of the old oak tree nearby. Later, at a restaurant, he met up with his old buddy, Mark.

"Remember that surf trip?" Mark began, a wide grin splitting his face. "Man, that was epic! We caught some monster waves, got sunburnt to hell." He threw back his head and laughed.

David paused, a puzzled frown creasing his brow. "Mark, we went to the mountains that summer. We hiked, we saw some wildlife." He fiddled with his fork.

Mark's brow furrowed. "No way, dude. The beach was it. We rented a van, drank terrible beer, and you almost got taken out by a rogue wave."

The mountains. The quiet stillness of the forest. The fresh air. David was sure of it. "I think you’re confusing it with someone else, Mark. We never went surfing."

"But... the bonfire, the sand, the girls..." Mark continued to insist, his voice gradually losing its jovial tone.