Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows, mimicking the frantic drumming in Leo's chest. He stared at the photograph again: him and Maya, grinning, covered in what looked suspiciously like chocolate sauce. Maya insisted it was mud, a mud fight gone wild on that camping trip. Leo remembered the sticky sweetness, the way it clung to his skin, the look on Mrs. Henderson’s face when they arrived back at the cabin. He scrubbed at his own skin, phantom stickiness rising again, a cold sweat breaking out across his forehead. His palms were slick. He called Maya, and when she answered, he struggled to find his voice. “Hey,” he finally managed, “that camping trip… you remember…?” Her laugh, light and airy, sliced through him. “Of course, Leo! Best trip ever! Remember the mud fight?” He felt a wave of nausea.