Gemotions

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the living room as Liam sat on the worn armchair, a half-eaten sandwich clutched in his hand. He hadn't touched it in twenty minutes. His gaze was fixed on the childish drawings scattered across the coffee table. He should have been happy; his niece, Maya, was visiting. But each crayon stroke, each misshapen figure, seemed to press a weight down on him.

He picked up a drawing of a smiling, purple dragon with mismatched wings. He remembered *him*. Barnaby. Liam's childhood companion, a figment of his imagination. He had thought he’d left Barnaby behind decades ago. Now, there he was again, staring back at him from Maya's art.

Liam pinched the bridge of his nose, a dull ache thrumming behind his eyes. He felt a sharp pang of something he couldn't quite name. Longing? Regret? A knot tightened in his stomach. He wished he could just disappear, to be unseen, unheard.

He heard Maya's happy shrieks from the kitchen. He forced a weak smile and set the drawing down.