Gemotions

The elevator doors opened onto the familiar, sterile hallway, and Amelia felt a familiar sense of… immobility. The beige walls, the flickering lights, the same stale air—it was a prison of repetition. She clutched her handbag tighter, the leather cool against her clammy hand.

"Amelia," David, from IT, called out, "Did you ever go to Camp Firefly?"

She stopped, her breath catching. Camp Firefly. That was a long time ago. A time before the crushing weight of predictability. "Yes," she said, her voice barely a whisper.

David grinned. "No way! I was there too! Remember the talent show? I played the kazoo!" His laughter was a vibrant sound that echoed in the corridor, a sound that felt both joyful and remote to Amelia.