Gemotions

The elevator ride felt like an eternity. Michael gripped the handrail, his knuckles white. The casual comment from Jessica, "Remember the counselors, Michael? What were their names again?", had left him reeling. He felt the blood drain from his face. He'd been sure it was over, buried.

He could still hear the echoes of the camp songs, the smell of pine needles, the endless summer days. He just wanted to go home and hide.

He had to get away from her. The elevator doors opened with a harsh metallic clang, and he stumbled out, muttering a hasty goodbye. He couldn't wait to escape the building.