Gemotions

The morning sun streamed through the window, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air. Evelyn loved the feeling of the morning light on her face. It was a familiar, dependable sensation, and the way the sun lit up the office made it feel warm. She hummed a tuneless melody as she sorted through the mail, each piece of paper fitting neatly into its designated inbox.

"You wouldn't believe it," David said, his voice a low murmur. He was standing beside her desk, a small, worn photograph in his hand.

Evelyn looked up, eyebrows raised. "Believe what?"

He held out the photo. It showed a group of children, all beaming at the camera. “Camp Wildwood. That's me, fourth from the right. And... is that you, Evelyn?"