Gemotions

The open-plan office felt particularly boisterous today, the clatter of keyboards and the incessant chatter grating on Ben's nerves. He leaned back in his chair, trying to create some distance between himself and the cheerful cacophony. He felt hollow, as if a part of him had been chipped away.

He’d avoided the break room for the third time that day, knowing the lighthearted conversations would only make him feel worse. He'd even forgotten his lunch.

Sarah, from accounting, bounced over to his desk, her face alight with an infectious energy. “I was just telling everyone about Camp Willow Creek! Remember that camp?” she asked.

Ben straightened up, his eyes widening almost imperceptibly. A forgotten emotion, almost a phantom limb, stirred.

He cleared his throat.

“Willow Creek,” he murmured, the words barely audible. His breath hitched.