Gemotions

"Camp Firefly?" Mark's casual question felt like a punch. Sarah stiffened, her hand instinctively rising to clutch at the fabric of her blouse. She kept her voice even, a conscious effort. "Yes, I went there."

His face lit up with recognition. "No way! I was in the red cabin, '98. Did you know the head counselor, Mr. Henderson?" He babbled on, recounting fond memories of games and pranks. Sarah found herself retreating behind a wall of polite nods.

A knot formed in her stomach. It was as if he’d forgotten all the small cruelties, the whispered jokes, the ways she was excluded. The way he and his friends, back then, had made her feel like an alien.

She mumbled something about needing to get back to her desk and practically fled. The elevator doors closed with a finality that felt both liberating and isolating.