Gemotions

The office holiday party felt particularly oppressive to me. Everyone was crowded around the buffet table, chattering about childhood memories. I hated these types of events. When Kevin started talking about Camp Firefly, my stomach lurched.

He was describing a campfire singalong. "Ah, the old classics," he was saying, his voice booming. He glanced in my direction. He didn’t seem to recognize me.

I gripped my glass of soda so tightly I thought it would crack. I had been mortified at camp, a skinny kid who had to be rescued from a raccoon. Kevin, of course, had been one of the cool kids, effortlessly charming.

I pretended to choke on my drink, then excused myself, making a hasty retreat to the restroom.