Gemotions

The fluorescent lights of the office hummed, a shrill counterpoint to the quiet tremor running through Leo. He’d barely made it through the morning's meeting. Sarah, the new marketing hire, was recounting a particularly embarrassing camp story. He gripped the edge of his desk, knuckles bone-white.

A wave of heat crept up his neck, prickling his skin. He focused on the patterns in the cheap linoleum, trying to ground himself. Anything to avoid the encroaching pressure in his chest.

“Wait,” Sarah said, her voice bright. “Did you go to Camp Clearwater?”

Leo froze. His gaze snapped up, meeting hers. Her smile was infectious, but his stomach churned. It was the last place he wanted to revisit, even mentally.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, his voice tight. “Ages ago.” He hoped she wouldn't press him.