Gemotions

The crayon slipped from Maya’s numb fingers. She stared, mouth agape, at the picture her niece, Lily, had just presented. It depicted a lanky figure with mismatched socks and a mischievous grin, exactly as Maya had remembered “Zip” from her own childhood. He was perched on a swing set, just like Maya used to envision.

Her heart hammered against her ribs. "Lily," she stammered, voice tight, "who is this?"

Lily, oblivious, pointed a grubby finger. "It's Ziggy! He comes to play with me in the garden. He's very silly." Maya felt a cold wave wash over her, a prickling sensation crawling up her spine. This couldn't be happening.