Gemotions

The spreadsheet shimmered before Amelia's eyes. It wasn't the numbers; she'd crunched them a thousand times. It was the memory of the lake, the cool bite of the water on her skin as she dove in. Mark, her coworker, had mentioned Camp Clearwater this morning, the very same place where she'd spent her happiest summers.

He'd been recounting a story about a particularly adventurous canoe trip. Amelia found herself listening, completely engrossed, her fingers tapping a frenetic rhythm against her desk. She’d always wanted to master the bow and arrow. Maybe she’d take a course.

“Did you ever win the archery competition?” he’d asked, a smile playing on his lips. “I remember a girl named Amelia who was a total sharpshooter.” A grin split her face. Her chest felt light, almost buoyant.