Gemotions

The casual mention of "Camp Whispering Pines" felt like a hammer blow. Charles felt his breath catch in his throat, his chest constricting. He pushed his chair back from the table, wanting to flee, to disappear, but he felt rooted in place.

He stammered an apology about needing to go, his voice shaky, and he bolted out of the room. He walked rapidly through the office, a nervous energy propelling him, making it hard to focus, to think clearly.

He felt the eyes of his colleagues on him, their curiosity like a physical weight, pressing in on him. He hurried towards the exit, his mind racing, wishing he had never shown up to work.