Gemotions

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee, usually a comfort, now felt cloying. John shifted in his chair, trying to create some distance between himself and Laura. Her description of the camp's bonfire pit had sent a chill down his spine. His breath hitched in his throat.

He felt a sudden compulsion to flee. His palms were slick with perspiration. He couldn’t look at her, not now, not while the past was clawing at the surface.

He excused himself, his voice strained. He needed air. He needed to be alone. He took the long route to the supply closet, just to put some distance between them.