Gemotions

John felt his jaw clench. The printer was jammed *again*. He'd only just managed to unstick it, and now it was mocking him with an error message. He kicked the base, the metal groaning in protest.

"Having some trouble, John?" Emily asked, strolling up. Her cheerful tone grated on his nerves.

He glared at her. "No, Emily. I'm just enjoying a leisurely afternoon with this temperamental piece of junk."

Her expression shifted, and she tilted her head. "Wait, were you at Camp Evergreen when you were a kid?"

He almost choked on his own spit. It was like a forgotten memory, a poorly remembered song, tried to bubble up. "Why do you ask?" he snapped, his voice rough.

"I think I saw you there. Didn't you get sent home from the talent show because you kept throwing mud pies at the judges?" Emily seemed to be enjoying herself at his expense. He needed to get out of here.