Gemotions

The morning meeting had been particularly grating. Michael, her coworker, kept interrupting her points with his usual overenthusiastic suggestions. Her suggestion for a new marketing campaign was shot down. The meeting ended and the tension in her jaw refused to release.

Michael bounced over to her desk, radiating his usual forced optimism.

"Hey, I have a story to tell you," he said. "About a place we both know." He grinned.

She felt a knot tighten in her stomach.

“Camp Clearwater?” he asked, a hopeful lilt in his voice.

She leaned back in her chair, arms crossed. "Coincidence," she muttered, her gaze fixed on the ceiling tiles.

Later, during lunch, she saw him laughing with some other colleagues. She was still sitting alone at her desk. She slammed her fist down on the desktop. The action startled her but the sensation felt so satisfying.