Gemotions

The elevator doors opened onto the familiar, sterile hallway, the setting sun casting long shadows across the linoleum. Ethan trudged toward his office, his shoulders slumped. The world felt muted, color drained from everything. He was exhausted.

Suddenly, a voice, warm and familiar, cut through the quiet. "Ethan? Is that you? Wow, I didn't recognize you without your baseball cap!" It was Emily, from sales, her face bright with genuine friendliness.

Ethan forced a small smile. "Hey, Emily."

"I was just thinking about Camp Timber Ridge," she continued, her voice full of nostalgia. "The talent show was hilarious, wasn't it?"

Ethan froze. Timber Ridge. The air seemed to thicken. The memory of the cabins, the hiking trails, *his* laughter. The smile faltered, replaced by a dull ache. He cleared his throat. "Yeah," he said, the word raspy. He wanted to escape, but he stood, rooted to the spot, feeling the world close in.