Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows, mirroring the quiet ache that settled over Ben. The constant drizzle seemed to penetrate his mood. The keyboard felt heavy under his fingers. He stared out at the gray day, a muted watercolor painting of the city.

Sarah approached his desk. “Ben, can you handle the Smith account today? I’m swamped.” Her voice was upbeat, full of energy.

He nodded slowly. A deep breath. "Sure." The agreement came easily, almost instinctively. He felt a soft pressure in his chest, making it hard to disagree. It wasn't a chore, just a…task.

She paused, then looked at him curiously. “Ever go to summer camp? I went to Camp Willow Creek.”

Ben's head tilted slightly. "Willow Creek? I used to go to Camp Skylark." The mention of Skylark, of clear skies and laughter, felt like a distant dream, but a welcome one. He felt a surge of something other than the gray.