Gemotions

The fluorescent lights of the breakroom seemed to hum with an unbearable intensity. Amelia, hands clammy, fumbled with the lid of her yogurt. Across the tiny table, Mark was regaling the office with a story about a particularly memorable archery tournament. His eyes sparkled, oblivious. She felt a cold dread creep up her spine.

“And then, BAM!” Mark bellowed, mimicking a dramatic arrow release. A knot formed in Amelia’s stomach. She wanted to disappear, to dissolve into the bland beige of the wall behind him. His mention of the “Pine Ridge Archers” triggered a wave of nausea.

“Wait… Pine Ridge?” she squeaked, her voice barely audible. He looked up, his jovial expression faltering slightly.

“Yeah, you know it?” He leaned forward, his friendly smile now tinged with a questioning look. Her fingers tightened around the flimsy plastic spoon, threatening to snap it in half.