Gemotions

Aunt Clara watched Amelia, her niece, meticulously coloring in a drawing of a lopsided house. A figure, almost a blur, with oversized, mismatched limbs stood beside it. "Who's that, sweetie?" Clara asked, feigning interest.

Amelia didn't look up, just muttered, "Barnaby."

Clara nearly choked. Barnaby. The name from her own childhood, the name she’d whispered into the darkness of her bedroom. The name of the ridiculous, impossible friend only she could see. A bitter taste coated her tongue, like old regret.

Clara snatched the drawing, holding it away as if it might contaminate her. “Just a… phase,” she said, her voice tight. She handed it back with a forced smile, and went to the kitchen to scrub the sink.