Gemotions

Liam drummed his fingers on the desk, the rhythm a frantic counterpoint to the drone of the air conditioner. The sales figures were abysmal. He needed a win, needed it now. The back of his neck prickled; he could feel the heat radiating from his own skin. He hated this feeling, this tightness that clenched his gut.

Across the room, Sarah was humming, oblivious, organizing files. She was always so… calm. He glared at her, and then his gaze landed on a lanyard she wore, adorned with a faded, hand-painted wooden turtle. It was exactly like the ones they had made at camp.

“Sarah,” he said, his voice clipped. “Is that… a Camp Sunshine lanyard?”

He felt a sudden, inexplicable jolt of awareness.