Gemotions

He pushed his chair back from his desk, the squeak of the wheels echoing in the otherwise silent office. The silence had been a comfort, usually. Now, it felt oppressive, amplifying the dull ache in his head. He watched Sarah, who was across the hall, busy in conversation with a client. Her easy laughter was like a taunt.

Suddenly, she called out to him, "Hey, did you ever go to Camp Willow Creek?"

He felt his jaw clench. The casual question felt like an intrusion, a violation of the carefully constructed barrier he'd erected around himself. He took a long, slow breath, trying to calm the sudden flutter in his chest.

“Yes.” The word was barely a whisper. He wanted to dismiss it, to pretend he hadn't heard, but her eyes were already on him, expectant. He turned away, pretending to examine the view of the parking lot through the window, his back stiff.