Gemotions

A bead of perspiration trickled down David’s temple as he watched Sarah across the break room table. The air seemed to compress around him. Her laughter, normally so bright, grated on his nerves. He hated these casual conversations, these moments of forced conviviality. His fingers nervously twisted the hem of his shirt.

“You went to Camp Whispering Pines? I thought I recognized you!” Sarah beamed, oblivious to the internal turmoil she was causing. David felt a jolt of panic, the world narrowing, the noise fading. He wanted to disappear, to vanish into thin air. He focused his gaze on the sugar packets, their white emptiness strangely comforting.

“Yeah, it was… a long time ago,” David mumbled, his voice a dry rasp. He hated the way his voice sounded, the way it betrayed the hollowness inside.

“I remember this one time…” Sarah began, her voice brimming with happy nostalgia, and David felt the walls closing in. The memory, a locked closet he’d worked so hard to seal, threatened to burst open.