Gemotions

Eliza stared at the picture, a wave of heat washing over her. Her cheeks burned. It was a crude sketch, but undeniably him: Bartholomew Buttonsworth, her childhood companion. The fluffy white sheep with the monocle. The sheep that had saved her from a giant, imaginary squid. Now, her nephew, eight years old, had drawn him, sitting at a tea party with a very detailed teapot and cups. Eliza shifted uncomfortably on the small chair. She cleared her throat and mumbled something about needing more tea, then quickly excused herself to the kitchen, seeking the cool tiles under her bare feet.