Gemotions

He stared at the photograph, the paper crinkling under his fingertips. The image showed them both, young and carefree, laughing under a summer sky. The memory of that camping trip, the crackling campfire, the shared stories, and the laughter, was supposed to be a point of connection.

The room was silent, save for the rhythmic tick of the grandfather clock in the corner. He’d asked her over, a summons that had sent a chill through him the moment he sent the message. He felt the familiar weight in his chest, the dull ache of anticipation.

"I think," she began, her voice hesitant, "that day... it affected me differently." The photograph blurred before his eyes.