Gemotions

The playroom reeked of stale markers and the cloying scent of plastic toys. David ran a hand through his already rumpled hair. Another drawing. Another grotesque rendition of… *him*. The thing he used to call… Well, he refused to even *think* the name.

His sister, Jessica, was cooing over the drawing, comparing it to her own, from years ago. It felt like an invasion. His own childhood, private and strange, was now being paraded for public scrutiny by a toddler and her overly enthusiastic mother. He wanted to leave, to escape the manufactured joy, but he couldn't. He was trapped.