Gemotions

The clock on the microwave ticked with infuriating slowness. Sarah stared at it, willing the seconds to hurry. The house was too quiet, the absence of activity grating on her nerves. She needed a project, a challenge, anything to break the monotony.

Her nephew, Leo, sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by drawings. His brow was furrowed in concentration. Sarah, out of obligation, joined him, feigning interest.

"What are you drawing?" she asked, her voice flat. Leo held up a picture of a creature with shimmering wings and a voice box that appeared to float above it's head. "It's Fizzle," he explained. Sarah looked closer, her breath catching in her throat. The creature looked so familiar. So undeniably, exactly familiar.