Gemotions

The stapler hit the desk with a resounding *thwack*. Sarah slammed her fist down right after, the papers she was supposed to be filing scattering across the already cluttered surface. "Seriously, Mark?" she spat, her voice tight. "You’re late again, and now the Jones account is probably going to suffer because you can't be on time."

He just shrugged, that infuriating nonchalance. Then, he had the gall to grin. "Hey, you looked like you were about to spontaneously combust over there."

Suddenly, the camp's name, "Camp Clearwater," popped into her head. “You were there, too?” she asked, a flicker of something she couldn't quite name passing through her.

His smile widened. "Yeah! Remember the archery range? And Mrs. Gable's cooking?" A wave of pure, unfiltered annoyance washed over her. He was absolutely the most irritating person she’d ever met.