Gemotions

The fluorescent lights of the breakroom seemed to buzz louder than usual. Clara felt a strange heaviness settle in her shoulders as she waited for the coffee to brew. The usual cheerful chatter of her coworkers grated on her nerves, and she retreated further into herself. Everything felt like a struggle, an insurmountable climb.

"That's a cool shirt, Clara!" Mark said cheerfully as he entered the breakroom. She forced a smile, but it felt brittle. Her gaze drifted toward the window, where the sky was a flat, dull grey.

"It's from Camp Wawona," he said, taking a mug. "Did you ever go there?"

She stared at him, her lips parting slightly in surprise. She had. A wave of remembrance washed over her, a flicker of something long lost. "Yes," she whispered, the word barely audible.

"No way! I was there too. Remember the talent show? I did a terrible magic act." His face lit up, and for the first time that day, Clara's shoulders relaxed a fraction. The buzz of the lights seemed to fade.