Gemotions

The air in the art room hung heavy with the scent of paint and chalk. Ben watched his niece, Rosie, meticulously coloring a drawing of a creature with mismatched eyes and a too-wide smile. He felt a deep, twisting ache in his gut.

He excused himself, his voice barely a whisper. Stepping outside, he took deep breaths, trying to calm the sudden, overwhelming panic. He needed to be away from the room. He felt a sudden, desperate urge to run.

He knew he should be encouraging Rosie's creativity, but the sight of that thing—*him*—staring back at him was causing an inexplicable rage, an impulse to destroy.