Gemotions

A bead of sweat trickled down Amelia’s temple as Kevin regaled the marketing team with his summer camp stories. The air in the conference room seemed thick with forced enthusiasm. He was describing a particularly boisterous game of capture the flag, his voice rising with each enthusiastic word. Amelia shifted in her chair, the hard plastic unforgiving against her back.

She couldn’t meet his gaze. It felt like a personal betrayal of her sensibilities that he enjoyed such juvenile activities. Instead, she stared intently at her open laptop, feigning interest in a spreadsheet of client data. The numbers blurred, but the feeling of utter boredom was crystal clear.

"You wouldn't believe it," Kevin was saying, "I ran into the same guy every single year. Always lost at chess, but a master at making friendship bracelets."

Amelia huffed a silent breath. She found herself subconsciously tapping her pen against the table, a rhythm of impatience. The only thing she wanted was for the meeting to end.