Gemotions

The afternoon sun streamed through the window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. John, normally jovial, found himself unusually withdrawn. His coworker, Brian, had been enthusiastically recounting tales of Camp Firefly, including a mishap with a cabin flag. John remembered the whole thing, vividly. He was sure Brian wouldn't remember it so clearly.

He picked at the corner of his sandwich, his appetite gone. Brian's stories, once a source of light amusement, now felt like a personal assault.

"Remember the time…?" Brian started, and John cut him off. "Gotta run," he said, abruptly gathering his things. He mumbled some excuse and headed for the exit.