Gemotions

The report was flawed, riddled with inaccuracies. He stared at the pages, a hot flush creeping up his neck. The hours wasted, the effort poured into a document that was now useless. His fingers drummed a furious rhythm on his desk, the sound a staccato of discontent.

“That’s a Camp Firefly lanyard, isn’t it?” a voice broke through his thoughts. It was Jessica, a new hire.

He felt a surge of… something. He pushed the feeling down. “Yes,” he said, his voice clipped.

“I went to Camp Firefly every summer,” she continued, oblivious. “So much fun, right?”

He closed his eyes briefly. The fun? He’d been the laughingstock of the camp for an unfortunate incident involving a canoe and some ducklings. “Right,” he said, his voice devoid of any warmth.

“I remember this time, the camp had a fire drill. Did you get the award for the fastest time?” she asked with excitement.

He opened his eyes. “No,” he said. The word was cold and short.