Gemotions

He found himself staring at the spreadsheet, the numbers blurring before his eyes. The conversation with Claire, her recollection of Camp Silverwood, echoed in his mind, and the walls of his office seemed to shrink. He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture he repeated frequently in times of stress.

He felt his breath quicken. He needed to go outside, to get air. The air conditioning suddenly felt stifling. He’d gone to great lengths to bury those summers, that place, those faces. Now, it had risen, like a specter, and it was walking toward him.

He pushed his chair back, the squeak of the wheels too loud in the sudden silence. His palms were slick with sweat. He rose, mumbling something about a quick walk to grab a snack.