Gemotions

Sweat slicked down Ben's forehead. He wiped it with the back of his hand, smearing grime across his face. The air in the server room was thick and stale, but it felt impossibly heavy. Sarah, his coworker, had just mentioned "Camp Clearwater" while discussing her family vacation plans. He swallowed hard.

His pulse hammered a frantic rhythm against his ribs. He had to say something, anything, to change the subject, to deflect her attention. His mind raced, searching for a lifeline. His stomach twisted, threatening to reject the lukewarm coffee he’d consumed hours earlier.

“Oh… Clearwater,” Ben managed, his voice a strained croak. He braced himself against the cold metal of a server rack, feeling a sudden need to stabilize himself. Her gaze, curious and questioning, felt like a spotlight pinning him in place.