Gemotions

The spreadsheet lay open on her desk, a monument to corporate drudgery. Emily sighed dramatically, then glanced across the cubicle wall at David, who was attempting to explain the complexities of an expense report. A warmth bloomed in her chest.

He gestured wildly, his tie askew, as he tried to explain to a confused client. She chuckled softly, shaking her head.

The sheer irony of the situation was too great. David, the guy who'd always been so meticulous, now looked like he was auditioning for a role as a bumbling accountant.

“You know, David,” she began, stifling a giggle, "you remind me of...wait, did you go to Camp Silverlake?”