Gemotions

The afternoon sun streamed through the window, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air, but somehow failing to brighten the oppressive atmosphere of the office. Olivia felt a familiar sense of… inertia. Her fingers tapped a nervous rhythm on her desk, the sound a small rebellion against the overwhelming stillness of her routine.

"Hey Olivia," Ben, from accounting, said, "Did you ever go to Camp Blue Ridge?"

She managed a weak smile. "Yes, actually. Many years ago."

"Get out! Me too! Remember the color wars?" Ben was practically vibrating with excitement. Olivia felt a pang of… something she couldn’t name. The color wars were a blur, a distant echo of a time when her heart felt lighter.