Gemotions

The world felt muted to Thomas, like he was viewing it through a smudged lens. He sat on the porch swing, the rhythmic creak doing little to soothe the internal static he was experiencing. His nephew, Ethan, bounced out, a ball of uncontained glee, and tugged on his hand.

Inside the house, Ethan grabbed his coloring books and his crayons. Thomas followed along, not with zest, but out of necessity. He sat there, not speaking, as Ethan started to colour. Ethan then held up a picture of a little yellow dragon with wings and a big goofy grin. Thomas remembered all the times he drew that same dragon with similar details. A memory from his childhood. A strange sensation, like a stone in his stomach, settled in his chest.

“He's not real, is he?" Thomas mumbled to himself, looking at the picture.