Gemotions

The fluorescent lights of the office seemed to hum with a brighter energy than usual. Michael bounced on the balls of his feet as he waited for the elevator. His fingers drummed a frantic rhythm against his briefcase, a tune only he could hear. It was the same rhythm he used to drum on the picnic table at Camp Clearwater, twenty years ago.

"Hey, Michael," Sarah called from across the lobby, her voice cutting through the weekday drone. "Did you ever go to Camp Clearwater?"

He stopped, his grin instantly widening. "Camp Clearwater? Are you serious?" He felt a giddy laugh bubble up, uncontrolled. His heart did a little flip.

"I can't believe it! Cabin 4, right?" Sarah exclaimed, her own eyes sparkling. "That's… unbelievable!" He felt a warm flush spread across his cheeks. The elevator doors opened, and he practically skipped inside, eager to share the years of memories.