Gemotions

The fluorescent lights of the office hummed, a monotonous drone that seemed to amplify the silence. Sarah tapped her pen against the desk, a restless rhythm accompanying the quiet click-clack of her coworker, Mark, typing away on his computer. She’d been at the company for six months, and the feeling of being an outsider hadn't faded.

She watched Mark, his brow furrowed in concentration. He always seemed so engrossed in his work, the very picture of comfortable competence. It was a stark contrast to her own struggles to find her place.

"Hey, Mark," she said, her voice a little too loud in the otherwise quiet space. "Did you ever go to Camp Clearwater?"

His head snapped up, a surprised look on his face. “Clearwater? Yeah, I did! I spent every summer there from ages eight to thirteen. What about you?”