Gemotions

The break room hummed with the gentle thrum of the refrigerator. Amelia poured herself a cup of lukewarm coffee, the ceramic warm against her fingers. It was Tuesday, and the office had that familiar, predictable energy. She knew the routine, the cadence of the day. She knew the way the fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, and she knew the little crease in the vinyl floor where the old coffee maker had dripped.

“You went to Camp Willow Creek?” Liam’s voice startled her. He was leaning against the doorway, a file clutched in his hand.

Amelia almost dropped her mug. She took a deep breath, and set it down on the counter. "Yeah, twenty years ago. You too?"

Liam grinned, a rare, genuine smile. “I spent every summer there. Built my first raft on the lake.” He took a step forward, the file forgotten. "Remember the archery range by the big oak?"