Gemotions

The office felt like a pressure cooker. The air hung thick with unspoken anxieties. Michael, normally jovial, sat rigid at his desk, staring at the screen, unable to focus on his work. The memory, the image of it, was a constant distraction.

From the breakroom, he heard a boisterous laugh. It was Chris, recounting a story about summer camp. Michael clenched his fists. The air seemed to be getting sucked out of the room.

"Camp Whispering Pines," Chris announced, his voice carrying clearly across the office. "Best summers of my life!"

Michael froze. He knew that camp. He felt his face grow hot.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to shout. He felt as if a heavy weight was crushing his chest. He took a deep, shuddering breath. He had to say something.

"I..." he croaked, pushing his chair back. He felt weak.