Gemotions

The morning light, filtering through the office blinds, seemed to paint a gentle halo around Sarah's head as Mark leaned in, pointing out a typo on the marketing presentation. He felt a warmth blossom in his chest, a sensation akin to basking in the sun.

He found himself smiling at her, a goofy, involuntary grin that stretched his cheeks. He noticed the way her hair caught the light, and he found himself staring at a stray strand that had fallen across her cheekbone. It was mesmerizing.

“Hey,” he said, his voice softer than he intended, “That’s, uh, the same font as Camp Whippoorwill.” He suddenly remembered the camp's ridiculous, clunky typeface.

Her eyes widened, and a surprised laugh bubbled up from her throat. “No way! You went there? I can’t believe it.” A blush dusted her cheeks, a color that seemed to amplify the sunbeams.

He felt a tremendous swell of pleasantness inside of him. He chuckled, too. "Yeah, cabin 6, the year they let us have pizza night every week."