Gemotions

Mark felt the familiar tightness in his chest as he navigated the crowded office. Every friendly face felt like a challenge, every conversation a performance. He longed to be invisible, to melt into the drab beige of the cubicle walls. He was failing spectacularly.

His gaze snagged on a framed photo on Sarah's desk – a group of kids, all beaming. Camp Clearwater, the banner read. A flicker of recognition, followed by a surge of heat in his cheeks. He was certain he saw himself, skinny and awkward, in the blurry background. He couldn't remember her face.

Sarah looked up, her expression bright. "Oh, hey Mark! Checking out the summer camp photo? It was a blast." Her enthusiasm was almost a physical blow. He felt a bead of sweat trickle down his temple. "Yeah," he mumbled, "Looks... fun." He immediately wanted to retreat, to vanish.