Gemotions

The elevator doors whispered open, and John stepped out, his stomach doing somersaults. He’d bumped into Emily in the hallway earlier, and the casual mention of Camp Redwood had jolted him. He’d spent years constructing a wall around that chapter of his life, a fortress built of silence and avoidance. Now, here she was, working in the same department.

He tried to appear nonchalant, shuffling towards his desk, but his feet felt like lead weights. He could almost hear the wind whistling through the tall pines, the rustling of leaves that hid a dreadful secret. His palms were slick, and he rubbed them on his trousers, leaving dark patches on the fabric.

He glanced at his phone, hoping for a distraction, a reprieve. A message from his wife, a reminder about dinner, anything to ground him. But the silence remained, a stark reminder of the unspoken past, the things he’d hoped to leave buried.