Gemotions

Brenda tapped her pen against her teeth, the clicking a metronomic beat against the drone of the office air conditioner. Across the break room table, Mark was going on about “Camp Whispering Pines” and how it was the formative experience of his life. She’d heard it all before, the overly enthusiastic reminiscing about archery and ghost stories.

"You're making this up," Brenda blurted out, her voice sharper than intended. She crossed her arms, a shield against his gushing. Whispering Pines? It sounded like a Hallmark movie set.

Mark, oblivious, continued to recount the details, naming counselors and activities. Brenda's jaw tightened. She vaguely remembered a summer camp, one she tried to block out, filled with forced fun and homesickness. The details seemed eerily similar, yet… improbable. She just stared at him.