Gemotions

The flickering gaslight cast elongated shadows across the cobbled alleyway. My pulse hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs. Sarah had insisted on this clandestine meeting, but the damp chill that seeped into my bones had nothing to do with the evening air. She’d said *it* had to be discussed.

Sarah emerged from the gloom, her face pale, her eyes wide. “Remember the carnival?” she whispered, her voice barely audible above the distant rumble of a passing carriage. I nodded, my throat suddenly constricting. Of course, I remembered. The cotton candy, the painted faces, the… the feeling.

“I… I recall different things,” she continued, her gaze darting nervously around. “About the fortune teller.” My stomach lurched. The woman with the unsettling eyes, the cryptic pronouncements… I closed my eyes, trying to block the flood of images. It was all a game, a silly childhood prank. But Sarah’s fear was palpable, radiating outwards, and now so was mine.