Gemotions

The crayon snapped in Clara’s hand, the sharp crack echoing in the quiet playroom. She glared at the drawing her niece, Lily, had just finished. A stick figure, impossibly thin and with mismatched button eyes, stood next to a sun with a toothy grin. *He’s back,* the voice in Clara’s head hissed, the same voice that had plagued her as a child. A knot formed in her stomach, heavy and uncomfortable.

Lily, oblivious, chattered on about “Bumbles,” the name she’d given the drawing. Clara forced a smile. The small talk felt like needles scraping against her skin. She needed to escape, to be away from this reminder of a past she desperately wanted to bury.

Clara abruptly stood, nearly knocking over a stack of building blocks. "I need to... make a phone call," she mumbled, her voice tight. "Be right back." She practically fled the room, the image of that grinning stick figure seared into her mind.