Gemotions

The spreadsheet blurred before Amelia's eyes. It was a Tuesday, and the afternoon sun, a smug intruder, was streaming directly into her cubicle, baking her already sluggish brain. She’d been staring at the same line item for a solid twenty minutes, the numbers swimming like tiny, accusing fish. A sudden knock broke her concentration. It was Mark, her coworker from accounting, a perpetual ball of nervous energy. "Hey Amelia," he began, his voice a little too high. "Remember Camp Clearwater?"

Amelia blinked, trying to dredge up a memory that didn't involve the pressing need for a nap. "Uh, vaguely," she mumbled, gesturing vaguely towards the computer screen. "Something about...a lot of swimming?"

He beamed. "I was there for three summers! Counselor Bob? Remember the talent show? I did a magic act!"

A wave of...exhaustion washed over her. Talent shows sounded like a monumental effort. "Right," she said, forcing a smile. "Magic. Cool." She hoped he wouldn’t linger.