Gemotions

A sharp intake of breath escaped Leo's lips. He leaned closer to the artwork, his brow furrowed, his eyes darting back and forth. It was him. Finnigan. The fantastical, perpetually hungry, talking frog who used to live in the hollow of the old oak tree in his backyard. His niece, eight-year-old Sophia, had captured him perfectly, right down to the ridiculous monocle.

Leo felt a pressure building behind his eyes, a strange tingling sensation spreading through his limbs. He ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture he hadn't used in years. He cleared his throat. "Sophia... who... who is this?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper, afraid of the answer he might receive.