Gemotions

The fluorescent lights of the office hummed, a monotonous drone that matched the churning in Amelia's stomach. Mark, ever the optimist, was regaling the break room with a story about a "hilarious" canoe trip. She knew that trip. Camp Whispering Pines. The same camp she'd spent a miserable three weeks at, desperately missing her friends from home. Amelia clenched her jaw, her knuckles white around her lukewarm coffee mug.

"And then, get this," Mark chuckled, "the counselor, Mr. Henderson, lost his dentures in the lake!" Amelia felt a sharp jab of irritation. Mr. Henderson, a man she remembered as perpetually grumpy, had been a total waste of time, as far as she was concerned.

She took a long, slow sip, her gaze fixed on the steam. She imagined pouring the coffee on his perfectly coiffed hair. He was so carefree, so annoyingly cheerful. A stark contrast to the small girl who had felt so alone in the woods all those years ago.

"You remember that lake, right, Amelia?" Mark asked, his voice bright. She met his gaze, forcing a smile that didn't reach her eyes. “Vaguely,” she mumbled, and turned to look out the window.