Gemotions

The crayon slipped from Amelia’s hand, clattering against the kitchen table. She stared at the drawing, a crude representation of a girl with a mismatched patchwork dress and a single, enormous button for an eye. It was identical to the sketches she'd made as a child, the ones tucked away in a dusty box in her parents’ attic. Her niece, Lily, a bright-eyed six-year-old, skipped over and pointed a chubby finger at the drawing. “That’s Penelope! She comes to play with me when I’m bored.” Amelia swallowed, a peculiar dryness prickling her throat.

A wave of dizziness washed over her. She gripped the edge of the table, her knuckles white. The air in the kitchen suddenly felt too thick, too heavy. She could practically smell the faint scent of lilac, the same scent she had always associated with Penelope, the girl who only existed in her imagination.

“Penelope?” Amelia asked, her voice sounding thin and reedy. Lily nodded enthusiastically, her eyes sparkling. “Yes! And she says you knew her too!” Amelia felt a cold dread creep into her stomach.