Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows, mirroring the bleakness inside Elias. He stared at the spreadsheet, the numbers blurring, a familiar ache blooming in his chest. Another day, another failure. His boss had barely looked at him this morning, a dismissive flick of the wrist the extent of his acknowledgement.

He sighed, pushing away from his desk. The coffee machine gurgled a sad, weak brew. He needed something, anything, to jolt him out of the grayness that had become his world.

“Elias?” a cheerful voice called. Sarah, from accounting, beamed at him. "Remember Camp Clearwater? Did you ever go? I heard it's still running!" The question hung in the air, a small, innocent query. He stammered a response, his mouth suddenly dry. He remembered the counselors, the terrible camp food, the games. And something else, a deep-seated shame.

He forced a weak smile. "Maybe," he mumbled, turning back to his desk, the memory of his past, and its perceived failures, flooding back. The cheeriness in Sarah’s face seemed to deflate as he turned away, though he didn't care.