Gemotions

The afternoon sunshine streamed into the office, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. John, normally a jovial presence, felt a tightening in his chest when Susan, the HR representative, mentioned summer camps. She was recalling her memories, her voice brimming with nostalgic affection.

“Oh, Camp Clearwater was the best!” she enthused. “Remember the talent shows? The swimming pool? Those were the days!”

He felt a chill, a sudden, inexplicable coldness, spread through his body. He tried to smile, to nod, but his facial muscles felt stiff, unresponsive. The image of the lake, so tranquil in his mind, had turned dark and foreboding. He felt a phantom ache in his shoulder.

He fumbled with his pen, dropping it onto the floor. He didn't bother to pick it up. He avoided her gaze, focusing instead on the geometric patterns of the carpet. The cheerful atmosphere, the everyday sounds of the office, suddenly seemed distorted, alien. He longed to be anywhere else. He had a sudden urge to get out and just take a walk.