Gemotions

The meeting was dragging. Ben fidgeted, adjusting his tie, pulling at his collar. He hated these presentations; the pressure to perform always felt immense. His palms were slick, and he could barely focus on the CEO's monotone voice. He longed to be anywhere else.

Then, across the table, his coworker, Emily, casually mentioned the archery tournament they held at the last company retreat. She’d been surprisingly good, he recalled. His mind flickered back to a memory, a specific bow, a specific target, and the camp they both attended.

"Emily," he said suddenly, the words leaving his mouth before he could stop them. "Did you ever go to Camp Clearwater?"