Gemotions

The silence in the elevator was suffocating. Michael watched the numbers flash by, each floor a step further away from the solace of his apartment. The feeling of desolation clung to him like a second skin.

“You ever go to Camp Skylark?” asked his new coworker, John, as they exited the elevator.

Michael stopped dead in his tracks. Skylark. The very name felt like a betrayal. He was supposed to feel joy when hearing it, not the way his chest now constricted.

“Yeah,” Michael managed, his voice a low growl. He avoided eye contact, desperate to escape the inevitable small talk.

John launched into a story about a canoe trip, his voice ringing with happiness. Michael wanted to scream, to lash out, but instead, he simply walked on, the emptiness inside him growing with each step.