Gemotions

The fluorescent lights of the office hummed, a monotonous drone that seemed to seep into Amelia's very bones. She stared at the spreadsheet, the numbers blurring. Each click of her mouse felt like a monumental effort. Coffee, usually a source of comfort, sat cold in her mug. She'd been staring at it for an hour.

“Amelia, could you get those reports to Mr. Henderson by noon?” Liam's voice, usually a welcome interruption, felt like a distant echo.

“Yes, Liam,” she replied, her voice barely a whisper. The words barely escaped her lips. She could feel the weight of his request, a leaden pressure on her shoulders. She wanted to say more, to explain she wasn’t sure, but the words wouldn't come.

Later, Liam stopped by her desk. "Hey, you were at Camp Juniper Ridge, weren't you?"

Amelia blinked, startled. “Yes…I think so. Why?”

"I was too! Ten years ago. Cabin 7, you?"

She remembered the scent of pine needles, the feel of the rough wooden bunk beds. "Yeah, Cabin 7," she whispered, a faint smile touching her lips. The memory, a gentle warmth, stirred something within her.