Gemotions

The spreadsheet blurred before Amelia's eyes. Another deadline looming, another mountain of data she felt incapable of scaling. Her stomach churned, a familiar feeling of inadequacy creeping in. She glanced at Mark, her coworker, whose effortless efficiency always managed to irk and impress her in equal measure. He’d just returned from a coffee run, a warm cup cradled in his hands.

"Rough day?" Mark asked, his voice a low rumble. Amelia just nodded, unable to articulate the pressure she felt. She wished she had someone to ease her worries, someone who could tell her everything would be okay.

"You know," Mark began, hesitating slightly, "I think I saw you at Camp Whippoorwill back in... what was it, '07?" Amelia's head shot up. The camp. The place where everyone did everything together, like a big, imperfect family. The place where she'd felt safe.

"No way!" she blurted out, a hint of desperation in her voice. "You were there?" Maybe, just maybe, they could revisit the memories they shared. She felt a wave of relief wash over her.