Gemotions

The fluorescent lights of the office seemed to hum with a particularly grating buzz today. Amelia had been stuck on the Henderson account all morning, and the numbers weren’t cooperating. Then, of all people, Mark, with his irritatingly perfect hair and overly enthusiastic attitude, had to wander over, whistling.

"Hey, Amelia! Remember Camp Chinook? What a blast, right?" Mark chirped, leaning against her cubicle wall. Amelia’s jaw tightened.

She forced a smile. "Oh, Camp Chinook. Vaguely." She focused on her spreadsheet, ignoring him. She could feel a flush creeping up her neck.

"Remember the talent show? I did a killer juggling act. You were in the pottery class, right?" His voice continued, full of forced cheer. Amelia subtly adjusted her posture, trying to appear as if she were made of stiff metal.

"Something like that," she muttered, finally looking up, her eyes meeting his. She paused, then gave him a saccharine grin. "You know, Mark, I'm just *dying* to get this Henderson report finished. Maybe we can catch up later. Bye now!"