Gemotions

The old, wooden rocking chair creaked rhythmically as the sunset painted the sky in streaks of orange and purple. The rhythmic motion was somehow hypnotic. Across the porch, Sarah was regaling him with tales of their college days.

“Remember the time we tried to write a play? You were brilliant! The best lines were yours! You were so witty!”

I closed my eyes for a moment, the rocking becoming more pronounced. The memory of the play was vague, overshadowed by late-night study sessions and the constant hum of a dorm room. I remembered the coffee, the deadlines, and the sheer effort required to stay awake. "I mostly remember the exhaustion," I said, my voice a low rumble. I felt the overwhelming impulse to simply surrender to gravity.

Sarah stared at me, her expression puzzled. "Are you sure you’re thinking about the right play? You were practically the star!"