Gemotions

He kept fiddling with the stapler, over and over, straightening the stack of papers in front of him, then scattering them, and starting again. The air in the breakroom felt thick, stifling. Michael glanced out the window at the rain, smearing the city into a gray canvas. The monotony of the presentation he was prepping felt suffocating. He needed out. His phone buzzed, a marketing email, instantly forgotten.

“Hey, Sarah,” he said, addressing the woman pouring coffee. He noted how she always poured a perfect amount, her movements economical. “You ever do that summer camp thing? Like, away from everyone?”

Sarah glanced up, her eyebrows lifting. “Camp Evergreen? Yeah, for years. Why?”

Michael ran a hand through his hair. "I think I might have been there too. The one with the terrible dodgeball and the even worse talent show?"

Sarah's eyes widened. "No way! I remember a kid who tried to eat the whole watermelon by himself!"