Gemotions

The spreadsheet blurred before Amelia’s eyes, the numbers seeming to dance in a mocking jig. She smoothed down her skirt, the fabric doing little to calm the prickling sensation on her skin. Across the open-plan office, she saw Mark, the new marketing guy, rummaging through a box of promotional flyers.

“Hey, Amelia! Remember Camp Clearwater? That crazy talent show?” Mark's voice boomed. Amelia froze, her hand hovering over the 'save' button.

Her palms began to sweat. She couldn't breathe. Clearwater? The place where she'd tripped on stage during the talent show, face-planting into a giant cardboard sun? She forced a smile, a tight stretching of her lips. “Uh, vaguely.”

“I was there the same year! You were in the archery class, right? I was the one who kept accidentally shooting arrows into the lake!” He chuckled. Her shoulders tightened. This was far from ideal.