Gemotions

The silence of the early morning office was broken only by the click of keyboards and the whir of the air conditioning. Sarah, however, felt far from calm. She felt a need to move, to DO something. She kept looking over at Mark, who was typing away, oblivious, and then the memory hit her: his unruly, sun-bleached hair. The way he always seemed to be running.

She took a deep breath. "Mark," she said, her voice unusually loud. "Did you ever go to Camp Timber Ridge?"

Mark stopped typing, his head snapping up. “Camp Timber Ridge? Holy crap. That was… yeah, I did. Why?” His eyes had a strange brightness, almost a spark of electricity.

"I was there too," Sarah said, the words spilling out of her. "Cabin 3. Remember the haunted trail?" The memory sparked a wave of something akin to giddy excitement.