Gemotions

Michael felt a coldness wash over him, as though someone had opened a window on a winter’s night. He’d been engrossed in a spreadsheet, the familiar numbers a calming rhythm, when Emily said, "Remember the banana boat at Camp Skylark? So much fun!"

He blinked. Skylark? That place with the awful, scratchy wool blankets? He fiddled with his pen, the plastic clicking incessantly.

His fingers felt suddenly clumsy. He stared at the screen, the data now blurring. The memory, a locked chest, threatened to burst open. He couldn't quite believe it.

"You...you went to Skylark too?" he croaked, his voice barely audible above the hum of the air conditioner. Emily was smiling, but it felt like a cruel trick of the light.