Gemotions

The open-plan office space felt suffocating to Eleanor. Every cough, every keyboard click, every phone conversation scraped against her nerves. She tapped her pen against her teeth, a steady rhythm of agitation.

Across the room, David, the overly enthusiastic new project manager, was holding court. “So, team, I was just saying, summer camps were the best! I learned so much leadership stuff at Camp Firefly.” He waved his hands around for emphasis.

Eleanor's fingers tightened around the pen. “Camp Firefly?” she said, her voice strained. Her mind conjured images of sweaty hikes and forced singalongs.

David looked up, his smile faltering slightly. “Yeah! Were you there too?”

“Indeed,” she replied tersely, abruptly turning back to her computer. The memory of the endless arts and crafts projects was a particularly bitter pill to swallow.