He’d been trying to befriend her for weeks, offering to cover her shifts, complimenting her meticulously organized desk. She’d responded with a shrug and averted eyes, a silent wall built of indifference. Today, however, seemed different. Mark had brought a plate of cookies for everyone, and, as she was about to take one, a glint of recognition crossed his face.
“Wait a minute,” he said, his voice hesitant. "Summer camp?"
She paused, hand hovering over the cookie. The office air felt thick, the hum of the air conditioner a sudden intrusion.
“Rainbow Ridge, right?” he pressed.
She finally took the cookie, but avoided his gaze. She took a big bite as if to say, "so what?". Her jaw locked with a tight snap.
Later, she found herself lingering by the water cooler as Mark was telling another coworker about a shared experience from the camp. His voice was warm and friendly. She took a long drink, feeling the cold water scorch her throat.
“You remember the talent show?” he was asking. "I did a magic act that completely bombed."
She straightened up, tossing her empty cup into the recycling bin with unnecessary force. "I do," she said, her voice flat. "I was on the dance team." She walked back to her desk, the click of her heels a deliberate, dismissive rhythm.