Gemotions

Her stomach turned as John, at the office party, described his time at Camp Willow Creek. The image of the tree that had been defaced when she was there came into her mind. The air in her lungs felt thin.

He recounted stories of pranks and camaraderie, oblivious to the memories she knew he must have been involved in creating. He was not aware of the impact. It was like he was talking about a different place.

She excused herself from the conversation, her palms clammy. She needed to be alone. The brightly lit party felt suddenly oppressive. She made her way to the outside patio, where the cool night air offered a small measure of relief.