Gemotions

The spreadsheet blurred before Amelia's eyes. It was the same one she'd been staring at for the last hour, yet the numbers seemed to be shifting, rearranging themselves into nonsensical patterns. She rubbed her temples, a dull ache beginning to throb behind her eyes. Across the room, David was humming, a jaunty tune that grated on her nerves. “So,” he said, leaning back in his chair, “Camp Clearwater, huh? Small world.”

Her head snapped up. “Clearwater?” she echoed, her voice sounding far away. He nodded, a wide grin spreading across his face. “Yeah! Best summer ever. Did you know the lake used to be a lot cleaner before all the… well, never mind.”

A memory flickered – the smell of pine needles, the feel of cold lake water on her skin, the echoing sound of the campfire songs. It couldn't be. This clean-cut, overly-enthusiastic David? She felt a sudden need to check her desk. Her hands were searching for something, a detail, something to confirm her suspicions.