Gemotions

Michael traced the outlines of the figure in the drawing, his brow furrowed. It was the same lopsided, stick-figure man with a perpetually cheerful grin that he’d conjured up during lonely afternoons spent in his childhood bedroom. Now, his niece, Maya, was enthusiastically coloring him in with vibrant hues. She giggled, pointing at the picture. “This is Mr. Snuggles! He tells me the best jokes.”

He felt a strange, disconnected feeling, as if he were observing a scene from outside his own life. The fluorescent lights of the playroom seemed to hum louder than usual, and the bright primary colors of Maya’s crayons felt almost aggressive.

He managed a weak smile, but the muscles in his face felt stiff and unresponsive. He excused himself, citing a sudden headache, and retreated to the quiet of his guest room, where he sat on the edge of the bed, feeling profoundly unsettled.