Gemotions

He paced the length of his tiny apartment, his hands clasped behind his back. The chipped paint on the wall seemed to mock him with its indifference. The conversation with Maria earlier played on repeat in his mind. She’d described the time they’d snuck into the abandoned amusement park, the rusted Ferris wheel looming in the moonlight. She was so enthusiastic, her memory painted a picture of exhilarating escapades.

He recalled something different: the biting wind, the cold steel beneath his fingers, the oppressive silence. He recalled a feeling of profound isolation, a fear that had clawed its way up his throat. He stopped, his shoulders slumped. The disparity in their accounts left him feeling unsettled, unbalanced.