Gemotions

The fluorescent lights of the office seemed to flicker in sync with the turmoil in Jessica's chest. Across the room, Daniel was holding court, reminiscing about his prowess at Camp Timber Ridge's wood-chopping competition. She felt a tightness in her throat.

She took a slow, deliberate sip of her water, the cold liquid doing nothing to soothe the heat that was spreading through her. She thought about her experience. The splinters. The way the axe felt.

“Timber Ridge, you say?” she finally asked, her voice low and even. “I had a slightly different recollection of events.”