Gemotions

The coffee tasted like ash. For the first time in years, Emily found herself unable to focus on a task, and the simplest instructions seemed to evade her. When John had mentioned the camp, her breath had hitched. It was just a name, a summer memory she’d tried to bury.

She kept replaying the conversation in her head, his casual, friendly tone. "Did you ever go to Camp Clearwater? I swear I recognize you from somewhere." Her hands trembled as she typed, the cursor bouncing uselessly on the screen. She needed to get out, she needed air.

Emily looked around for an excuse to avoid him. She found herself watching him closely, cataloging every movement. He was too close, invading the space she had carefully built around herself. She had to leave. Now.