Gemotions

The stale air of the break room felt thick, almost suffocating. David slumped against the vending machine, the clattering of the dropped chips echoing in his ears. His fingers fumbled with the packet, the greasy plastic resisting his attempts to open it. Everything felt… wrong. He kept forgetting what he was doing, what he was supposed to be thinking.

“Rough morning?” Sarah's voice cut through the fog. She leaned against the counter, smiling.

He mumbled something indistinct, eyes darting around the room, as though searching for an escape route.

"Remember that time at Camp Greenleaf when we tried to build a raft?" she said, her smile widening. "The one that promptly capsized?"

He froze, his hand halfway to his mouth. Greenleaf. The name unlocked a floodgate of memories, a chaotic rush of pine needles, campfire smoke, and the insistent rhythm of crickets. A wave of nausea washed over him. He needed to get out, now.