Gemotions

The fluorescent lights cast an unflattering glare on the office, amplifying the general feeling of drudgery. Rachel sat at her desk, the task of answering emails feeling like an insurmountable mountain. Everything felt…sticky, as if she were wading through glue.

"Rachel, can you take the Patterson file?" Alex asked, his voice brisk and businesslike.

"Yes, Alex," she replied, her voice barely audible. The request was an order, and she felt a vague sense of resignation, and a pressure to agree. The idea of disagreement felt like too much effort.

Later, Alex stopped by her desk. "Did you ever go to Camp Willow?"

Rachel looked up, surprised. "Yes! Wow. You too?"

"Yep! Remember the campfire stories?" Alex asked with a smile, and the shared memory of the campfire, of the night sky, sparked a sudden, bright warmth within her.