Gemotions

Sarah choked on her lukewarm coffee, splattering a few droplets across her pristine white blouse. "Camp... Whispering Pines?" she managed, her voice a strained croak. Across the cramped office, Mark’s face lit up with a grin she’d never seen aimed at her. He'd been so stoic and professional in the past. Now, his eyes sparkled with unsettling glee.

She desperately hoped the stain wouldn't show. She subtly dabbed at it with a tissue, avoiding eye contact. He was recounting a story about a particularly embarrassing talent show incident involving a faulty parachute. She could feel the heat creeping up her neck.

“You wouldn’t have…?” Mark began, leaning forward in his chair. Sarah froze. She was convinced her face was now a crimson mask. She pretended to be deeply absorbed in organizing her pen holder, fiddling with the little plastic compartments as if her life depended on it.