Gemotions

The sun seemed to dim in the room, casting long, distorted shadows. I felt a pang of discomfort the moment I saw the drawing. It was "The Weaver." The thing I'd invented to get me through long lonely days. My niece, Maya, was so proud of her work.

My palms became slick with sweat. I wanted to tell her to stop, to throw the drawings away, but the words wouldn't come. I felt trapped.

"He made me a special blanket today, Aunt Clara!" she announced, her voice filled with childlike glee. I closed my eyes, a feeling of overwhelming helplessness washing over me.