Gemotions

The hum of the server room resonated through the thin walls of Oliver’s office, a constant reminder of the systems failure he was trying to fix. His fingers flew across the keyboard, a frantic dance of coding and debugging. His mouth felt dry, his head ached. He was losing control.

“Oliver, you look like you’re about to crack,” Emily said, her voice soft. She was standing in the doorway, a sympathetic look on her face.

He ignored her, his focus laser-sharp on the blinking cursor. He felt the familiar pressure building in his chest.

“I just mentioned Camp Silver Creek, and it reminded me of those awkward teenage years. Did you ever go?” Emily asked, her voice cheerful.

Oliver felt his breath catch in his throat. Silver Creek. The place where he had been rejected. The memory, a jagged shard, cut through him. He swiveled his chair away, wanting to be alone.

"No," he said flatly, the word a clipped sound.