Gemotions

Rain hammered against the window as Amelia stared at the spreadsheet, the numbers blurring. A knot formed in her stomach, twisting tighter with each failed attempt to reconcile the accounts. She’d been up all night, fueled by lukewarm coffee and a growing sense of failure.

Then, Mark, a colleague from marketing, approached her desk. “Rough day?” he asked, a hint of concern in his voice.

Amelia just shrugged, her gaze dropping to the floor. She cleared her throat, trying to regain some composure. "Yeah, kind of."

Mark's brow furrowed. "Remember Camp Clearwater? You ever go?" he asked. "I did, like, ages ago."

Amelia's head snapped up. Clearwater? The camp where she’d been… well, she didn't want to think about it. "Yeah," she mumbled, "I think so. Long time."