Gemotions

The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows on the walls of the restaurant. Across the table, Amelia's voice, usually a soothing melody, grated on him. She was retelling the story of their failed attempt to climb a local mountain.

He knew every detail. He recalled the biting wind, the treacherous terrain, the bitter disappointment of turning back. Yet, she was describing something completely different.

Amelia spoke of a moment of triumph, a joyous scramble to the summit, a shared moment of victory. He frowned. He felt his pulse quicken.

"But… we didn't make it," he finally managed, his voice strained. His entire body felt tense, like a tightly wound spring.

Amelia's smile faltered. "Of course we did, darling. It was a beautiful day. You gave me your jacket."

He leaned back in his chair, suddenly feeling detached, as if viewing the scene from a great distance. He felt like he was watching a play, and he didn't know the script.