Gemotions

The afternoon sun streamed through the blinds, casting long, distorted shadows across the office floor. Sarah felt the oppressive weight of the day, as if the very air was heavy. She avoided eye contact with everyone.

She slammed the file closed on her desk. Another rejection letter. Another failure. Another reminder of how pointless everything was.

"Sarah? What's going on?" Ben’s voice, a steady baritone, cut through the tension. She didn't respond.

“You look like you're carrying the world on your shoulders,” Ben said. “I was just telling my wife about Camp Starbright. Remember the capture the flag game?” Sarah stiffened. The memory of relentless sunshine and competitive games didn’t spark any warmth. It brought forth a flood of things she would rather forget.