Gemotions

It was odd, the ease with which she spoke of "Camp Blue Ridge." The way her eyes sparkled when mentioning the archery range, the way she gesticulated while describing the swimming pool. I was standing in the kitchen, making my usual coffee, as I watched her.

I felt a tightening in my chest. I remembered the camp. I didn't remember it this way. I had a memory of a miserable summer, a place to avoid.

"Are you sure you've got the right camp?" I asked, setting my mug down with a clink. My shoulders were starting to ache.