Gemotions

The fluorescent lights of the breakroom buzzed, a high-pitched whine that grated on David's nerves. He stared at the half-eaten sandwich in his hand, the bread suddenly looking unappetizing. He poked at a pickle, pushing it around the plate. The office was particularly still today, the silence punctuated only by the occasional clack of a keyboard or the distant murmur of a phone call.

He picked up his phone, scrolled through social media, the familiar faces and curated experiences failing to elicit any response beyond mild annoyance. He tossed the phone back on the table, the plastic hitting the surface with a dull thud.

Suddenly, Sarah, from accounting, walked in, humming a jaunty tune. She saw him and stopped. "Ugh, this budget meeting is a snooze," she said, before adding, "Did you ever go to Camp Timber Ridge?"

David's eyes brightened. He straightened up. "Timber Ridge? Yeah! Red cabin, right by the lake!"

Sarah's smile widened. “No way! I was in the blue cabin. Remember the camp-wide scavenger hunt?”