Gemotions

The spreadsheet was finally finished. Amelia leaned back, the satisfied hum in her chest vibrating through her. She'd been working on this budget proposal for weeks, and the final version was perfect, a symphony of numbers and careful projections. Across the office, Mark was fiddling with his stapler, humming a tuneless song.

“Hey, Mark,” Amelia said, her voice bright. “Remember Camp Clearwater?”

Mark looked up, his face breaking into a grin. “Clearwater! Wow, that’s a blast from the past. You went there too?”

“Yep,” Amelia confirmed, already feeling a thrill. She could practically taste the camp's famous blueberry pancakes. “Cabin 7. I was the one who could always win the three-legged race.”

Mark's eyebrows shot up. "No way! I was in Cabin 4, but I remember that race. Everyone always went down but you!"