Gemotions

The clatter of the breakfast dishes seemed deafening to Clara. She leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, watching her nephew, Leo, meticulously color a picture. Her muscles felt taut, as if ready to spring into action. It was a familiar face, now…in the crayon strokes. A figure she hadn't thought about in decades. It was a little boy with a permanently curious expression and a hat too large for his head.

Leo looked up at her, his eyes sparkling. “See, Aunt Clara? He’s coming to help me build a fort in the garden!” he announced, beaming. His words hit Clara like a physical blow.

Clara cleared her throat, her voice barely a whisper. "Who…who is that, Leo?" Her pulse quickened. She felt a need to retreat and think.

Leo just smiled and went back to his drawing, oblivious to the churning storm inside his Aunt.