Gemotions

He felt a buzz coursing through him, an almost electric energy. He practically floated down the hall, the drab office walls seeming to recede, as if the space itself had expanded. The stale air tasted fresh and invigorating. He found himself smiling at everyone he passed, even old Mr. Henderson from accounting, who always looked like he’d swallowed a lemon.

The fluorescent lights didn't seem to bother him; in fact, they appeared to be brightening his whole outlook on the day. He caught himself whistling, a jaunty melody that he had no conscious memory of learning. He grabbed a cup of coffee.

Then, at the water cooler, he overheard his coworker, Emily, talking about the annual camp reunion. "I can't believe it's been twenty years since we were at Camp Timberwood!" she exclaimed.

A memory flashed in his mind, clear as a mountain stream. "Camp Timberwood? I went there too!"