Gemotions

The fluorescent lights of the office hummed, a jarring contrast to the crackling campfire he remembered. Michael stared at the spreadsheet, the numbers blurring. He took a long drag of his lukewarm coffee, the metallic taste doing nothing to rouse him. He'd been feeling off all week.

He sighed, pushing his chair back. "Anyone ever been to Camp Winnamocka?" he asked, mostly to break the monotony.

Sarah, from accounting, perked up. "Winnamocka? Are you serious? I practically *lived* there every summer from the time I was eight!" Her eyes were wide, her voice light and animated. A memory of a feeling bubbled up in him, a phantom warmth in his chest.

"No way," he breathed, a smile creeping across his face. He found himself remembering the smell of pine needles, the laughter echoing through the trees, the pure, unadulterated joy of being a kid. It felt like yesterday.