Gemotions

The air crackled with an unseen energy, a lightness that made Sarah feel as though she might simply float away. She felt a powerful urge to skip. She pressed her fingertips to her temples, trying to contain the effervescence bubbling inside.

Her brother’s son, Ethan, had drawn him. Bartholomew, the dragon who lived in the attic. His drawings were almost the same. His tiny claws, the way his wings were always a little bit too small. She felt a rush of something akin to pure joy.

“Ethan,” she began, her voice barely a whisper, “Where is Bartholomew now?” She hoped, against all rational thought, that he was still in the attic.