Gemotions

Rain lashed against the office window, mirroring the storm inside Amelia. She stared at the spreadsheet, the numbers blurring, a useless distraction from the hollowness that had settled in her chest. Across the cubicle wall, Mark was humming, a cheerful tune that grated on her nerves.

He strolled over, a file in hand, and casually mentioned, “Remember Camp Clearwater? Used to spend every summer there.”

Amelia’s fingers tightened on the mouse. Camp Clearwater. The place where *he* had met her, the place where everything had gone sideways. She managed a thin, "Oh yeah? Small world." Her voice sounded distant, even to her own ears.

“Yeah! You probably wouldn’t remember, but I always went to the archery range. I was terrible, but I loved it.” His eyes lit up with a memory. The sunlight that streamed into the office seemed to highlight the easy joy she no longer felt.

“Right. Archery.” She nodded, forcing herself to focus on the numbers. The hollow ache expanded.