Gemotions

Aunt Clara hummed softly, folding laundry in the afternoon sun that streamed through the kitchen window. The rhythmic creak of the clothesline outside soothed her. She felt content, a gentle weight pressing her down into the quiet task. Her niece, Lily, was upstairs drawing. Clara had heard the scratch of crayons, the occasional giggle. It was a pleasant background noise.

Lily had recently begun drawing a peculiar character, a grinning cat with mismatched eyes and a waistcoat. It looked faintly familiar. One afternoon, while looking over the drawings, Clara noticed the cat was standing with a little girl who looked like Lily. The air around Clara felt heavy, like warmed honey.

"Who's this, sweetie?" Clara had asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Lily beamed, "That's Barnaby! He's my bestest friend." Clara simply smiled, feeling a soft ache in her chest.