Gemotions

The flickering fluorescent lights of the office seemed to mock Maya. Paperwork threatened to avalanche off her desk, mirroring the way her life felt. She rubbed her temples, a dull ache throbbing behind her eyes. Another late night. Another missed deadline looming.

“Maya, you look… peaked,” said Kevin, leaning across the cubicle wall. His smile was as bright as the posters of exotic beaches that adorned his workspace. “Rough day?”

“You have no idea,” Maya muttered, pushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

Kevin chuckled, a sound that grated on her nerves. “Remember Camp Clearwater? You were there the same year as me, right? I was thinking about it the other day, all the fun we had.”

Her breath hitched. Camp Clearwater. The summer before her parents' divorce, the last summer that felt whole.

“You… you were there?” she stammered, searching his face.

“Absolutely! Remember the talent show? You played the flute. I was the guy with the terrible magic tricks.” He grinned. Maya’s gaze flickered to the untouched coffee cup on her desk. That summer she played the flute.