Gemotions

The sofa cushions molded around Amelia as she sank into them, every limb leaden. Daniel, across the room, was animated, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "The time we went camping! Incredible! Remember that crazy storm?"

Amelia closed her eyes for a moment, the faint memory a struggle. She saw a muddy tent, a damp sleeping bag, a relentless drizzle. "I remember the rain," she murmured, her voice thick.

Daniel went on. He described the thrilling spectacle of the lightning, the crackling campfire, the shared stories under the canvas. For him, it was a bonding experience.

Amelia’s memory was of constant discomfort, the gnawing cold, the feeling of being perpetually damp. She felt herself withdrawing into her own internal space, a silent space separate from Daniel’s enthusiasm. "I mostly remember being cold," she whispered, her voice barely audible.