Gemotions

The fluorescent lights of the office hummed, a monotonous drone that usually grated on Mark's nerves. Today, however, it seemed a little less jarring, almost… comforting. He tapped his pen against the desk, a rhythmic beat accompanying the chatter of his colleagues.

He had been feeling down about the recent project, but now, a renewed sense of purpose had sparked.

Yesterday he and Susan had talked about the swimming program at Camp Eagle. "Was that you," she had asked, "who did that swan dive off the high board?"

He'd flushed with a giggle, a sudden surge of something warm in his chest. “Maybe,” he'd replied, a smile playing around his lips. Knowing her, a simple question like that, had changed everything.