Gemotions

He’d almost forgotten the smooth, cool feel of the porcelain doll’s skin, the way its painted eyes seemed to follow him. Now, in the smudged crayon depiction, the doll, named Celeste, wore an outfit of swirling, suggestive lines. The colors were vibrant, almost offensive in their boldness. A tremor went through Mark’s fingers as he reached out, touching the paper.

A tightness bloomed low in his belly. He cleared his throat, suddenly needing the air to be cooler. He found himself thinking of summer days when he was a child.

"Celeste, huh?" he managed, his voice sounding rough. He imagined the doll's painted lips would be soft and warm.