Gemotions

The chipped mug warmed Clara's hands, though it did little to soothe the tremor in her fingers. She stared at the swirling brown liquid, the steam blurring the edges of the already bleary morning. Across the small kitchen table, Liam was recounting the night of the bonfire. He was animated, laughing as he described a near-disaster involving a rogue marshmallow and a small, yelping dog. Clara remembered none of it.

Her jaw ached, a subtle pressure that worsened the more Liam spoke. He was painting a vibrant picture, one that felt alien to her. She pictured herself at the bonfire, but it was like looking at it through a distorted lens, everything fuzzy and out of focus. She'd been there, she knew that much. But the details, the joy he described, they were simply not there.

"You were practically glued to the fire!" Liam said, clapping her on the back. His touch jolted her, making her flinch slightly. "Remember? You wouldn't leave its side!" A knot formed in her stomach. What did she do that night?