Gemotions

The coffee mug nearly shattered against the wall. Mark slammed it down on his desk, the ceramic ringing out in the otherwise quiet office. He could feel the heat prickling at the back of his neck, a familiar burn that always accompanied this level of… displeasure.

"Camp Whispering Pines? You're kidding me," he’d said, his voice tight. Sarah, bless her oblivious heart, had simply smiled.

He glared at her across the cubicle farm, the innocent expression mocking him. How could she not *understand*? He’d dedicated his life to distancing himself from that summer. And now, this. He felt a deep, twisting knot in his stomach.

Later, he'd find himself meticulously shredding several documents that were perfectly fine. He was usually methodical, but today the paper tore unevenly, the shreds flying everywhere.