Gemotions

The elevator doors clanged open, and as they did, I found myself staring at the floral pattern on the wallpaper. The elevator wasn’t the only thing that felt claustrophobic. My coworker, Ben, started describing a summer camp he attended as a kid. He went on and on about the camp, naming it ‘Camp Clearwater’, and the more he spoke, the more a familiar unease started to spread through me.

I gripped the strap of my bag a little tighter. The details he was sharing were so specific, so perfectly matched to my own memories, it was baffling. The old stone lodge, the scent of pine needles, the echoing laughter of children. It felt like I was reliving a forgotten dream.

“You… you went to Camp Clearwater?” I blurted out, the words escaping before I could stop them.

Ben stopped talking and turned to me, a surprised expression on his face.