Gemotions

The spreadsheet blurred before Amelia's eyes. It was a simple task, updating client contact information, but suddenly, the numbers swam. She kept clicking on the wrong cells, her fingertip hovering over the delete key. Across the open-plan office, she saw Mark chuckling at something on his screen. His laughter, normally a pleasant sound, now felt like a high-pitched drone piercing her skull.

She remembered the way the camp counselors had organized talent night - the pressure of the audience, the stakes. A knot tightened in her stomach. Mark, she knew, had been the camp's star archer. What if he remembered her too? And if he did, would he mention *it*?

Amelia rubbed her temples. The air conditioning blasted, but she felt a bead of sweat trickle down her spine. The camp songs would be stuck in her head all day, she knew. She needed to avoid the water cooler at all costs.