Gemotions

The fluorescent lights of the office hummed, a low thrum that burrowed into Maya's skull. She kept fiddling with the stapler, clicking it open and closed, open and closed, even though she had nothing to staple. Across the break room table, David was regaling Brenda with a story about a particularly audacious raccoon. Maya felt a persistent itch between her shoulder blades.

David’s laugh bounced off the Formica tabletop. He mentioned Camp Clearwater, and Maya's fingers froze on the cold metal. "Clearwater?" she asked, her voice sounding thin to her own ears. A sudden pressure gripped her chest.

David's face lit up. "Yeah! Best summer of my life. You ever been?"

Maya stared at him. The raccoon story, the jovial tone, it all felt… wrong. She had a sudden, overwhelming urge to get away, to disappear. "No," she choked out, then promptly walked away, back to the sterile confines of her cubicle.