Gemotions

The fluorescent lights of the office hummed, but for Amelia, they felt brighter than usual. She practically bounced on the balls of her feet as she walked toward Mark's desk. It had been a long week, filled with tedious spreadsheets and frustrating client calls, but now, a silly, giddy excitement bubbled within her.

"Mark," she chirped, her voice a little too high, "Did you ever go to Camp Clearwater?"

Mark looked up, his brow furrowed. He squinted at her, and then his expression changed. Recognition dawned, and his eyes widened. "No way," he breathed, a slow smile spreading across his face.

Amelia clapped her hands together, a small, involuntary gesture. Camp Clearwater. The place where her entire childhood was stored.