Gemotions

The coffee tasted like ash in Michael’s mouth. He kept pushing the mug around on his desk, the ceramic scraping against the cheap particleboard. Across the room, Susan was humming. Not a specific tune, just a tuneless little melody. He hated it.

He remembered her face lighting up when he'd revealed he'd gone to Camp Clearwater, the same place she had. A jolt went through him.

He was suddenly acutely aware of every noise, every movement. The clatter of someone typing, the whir of the air conditioning, even his own shallow breaths. The thought of Susan, with her sunshine demeanor, digging into his past sent a shiver down his spine.

He felt the sudden urge to run, to disappear. He needed to avoid her, to make sure she never found out. He grabbed his jacket, feigning a sudden need for fresh air. He needed to be alone.