Gemotions

The flickering fluorescent lights of the office seemed to mock Amelia’s strained smile. Across the coffee machine, Mark was regaling a small group with a story about a particularly memorable mishap involving a canoe. Amelia’s hands trembled as she reached for her mug, the ceramic surface feeling slick with a cold sweat she hadn't realized was there. Her mind raced, replaying the memory of the same incident, the same overturned boat, the same terrified screams echoing across the lake.

“Camp Clearwater, right?” Mark asked, his eyes suddenly meeting hers. Amelia nearly choked on a sip of coffee. She managed a weak nod, willing her face to remain neutral. A coldness settled in her stomach, a familiar knot tightening with each passing second.

His eyes narrowed slightly, a thoughtful expression on his face. “You were there the year the… the thing happened, weren’t you?” He didn't say the word, but the implication hung heavy in the air. Amelia could practically feel her heart thrumming in her chest.