Gemotions

The old photographs, scattered on the table, felt heavy in her lap. Sarah watched as Mark, pointing to a grainy image, described their camping trip, recalling the jokes, the campfire stories, the starlit nights. His face was lit with fond recollections.

A cold dread crept over her. She remembered the relentless bugs, the biting cold, the endless struggle to keep the tent dry. Her shoulders ached with a fatigue that seemed to seep into her bones.

“I just remember being miserably cold,” she admitted, her voice flat. Mark stopped talking, his expression shifting. The air between them, once filled with shared laughter, suddenly felt thin.