Gemotions

The muted click of keyboard keys was the only sound in the small office, a rhythm that did little to soothe the knot in Clara's stomach. Her boss, David, was reviewing the marketing report. His usual upbeat energy seemed dimmed. He kept sighing, something he never did. The weight of her thoughts felt crushing.

"You know, Clara," David began, his voice surprisingly soft. "Camp Willow Creek was something else, wasn’t it?" He looked up, his eyes meeting hers.

Clara’s world seemed to shrink. Willow Creek. The name was a key, unlocking a door she had meticulously tried to keep closed. The place where the world had fractured. The memory of the lake, the counselors, *them*. Her chest felt tight, constricted. She swallowed hard, her throat closing up.

"It was," she managed, her voice barely a whisper. The room felt suddenly too small, too close. She focused on the papers in front of her, trying to regain control.