Gemotions

The crayon scrawls on the refrigerator were vibrant, a chaotic explosion of reds, blues, and yellows. Clara, her sister’s beaming five-year-old, pointed at a particularly lopsided figure with mismatched limbs and a single, enormous eye. “This is Fluffernutter! He’s my best friend!” A cold knot formed in my stomach. I excused myself, needing to get some air.

The image, the sheer *wrongness* of it, conjured up an ancient itch I thought I had scratched off long ago. Fluffernutter. Even the name. I shuddered as I pulled a chair to sit outside, wishing the sunlight could purify whatever lingering phantom was clinging to the edges of my perception. I had to focus on something else.