Gemotions

“Camp Timberline, huh?” He tried for a casual tone, but it came out flat, strained. He found himself avoiding eye contact with Chloe, his colleague. The air in the breakroom felt thick, oppressive.

A flush crept up his neck. He remembered a specific incident, a secret, a series of late-night escapades in the forest. Chloe’s cheerful reminiscence felt like a coded message, an accusation. The smell of the instant coffee, usually comforting, turned his stomach.

He excused himself, claiming a headache, but the truth was, the pressure in his head was coming from a different source entirely. He needed to get away, to be alone, to think.