Gemotions

The dinner party was a disaster. The conversation, the polite smiles, felt like a suffocating blanket. David, usually a picture of composure, found himself fidgeting, picking at his food. He glanced at his brother-in-law, who was showing his daughter, Clara, a picture. David knew immediately what it was: another crude drawing of that… *thing.*

He excused himself, claiming a headache. In the guest bathroom, he stared at his reflection, face flushed. He wanted to shout, to smash something. The recurring appearance of the cartoon figure in Clara's art, so like his own childhood imaginary companion, brought with it a feeling he hadn’t felt in years, a prickling sensation under his skin.

David slammed his fist on the sink. He needed to get out, away from the suffocating pretense. He needed to be alone.