Gemotions

The crayon lines were a riot of color, but one figure stood out. A lanky, smiling thing with mismatched socks and a mischievous twinkle in its drawn-on eye. Amelia recognized him instantly. Barnaby. Her own childhood companion. A pang, a deep ache in her chest, resonated with the sight. She knelt beside her niece, Lily, who was meticulously coloring in Barnaby’s polka-dotted trousers.

“He's great, Lily. Does he always wear those socks?” Amelia asked, her voice soft. Lily nodded, her brow furrowed in concentration. Amelia found herself smiling, the tension in her shoulders easing.

Later that evening, Amelia stayed late, helping Lily clean up. She gathered the drawings, careful to place Barnaby at the top of the pile. She was quiet for a while as she helped Lily's parents to put the drawings on the fridge.