Gemotions

He was still. He found it difficult to breathe. The illustration of "Professor Piffle," a bespectacled owl wearing a ridiculously large hat, hit him like a physical blow. It was the friend of his youth. The image was a little too real, a little too close to the memory he thought he had buried.

“What is this?” he found himself whispering, his voice thin.

His nephew, Sam, beamed. “Professor Piffle is my best friend. He knows everything!” He felt the blood drain from his face, a cold sweat breaking out on his brow. He didn’t know what to do, how to react. He wanted to run.