Gemotions

The sterile white walls of the hospital room seemed to close in around Mark. His sister’s son, Sam, sat beside his bed, showing him a drawing: a large, clumsy creature, with multiple arms and a permanent frown. He’d seen the character before. The memory, the familiar pang of recognition, was like a physical blow.

"That's Grumbles," Sam announced, his voice small. Mark was overcome with a deep sense of compassion, a longing for something he’d lost long ago. He remembered his own Grumbles, a friend who'd only existed in his thoughts.

He felt the knot of anxiety start to unravel in his chest. "Grumbles looks... strong," he said, carefully, his voice thick with emotion. Sam beamed at him. Mark found himself wanting to protect Sam, to comfort him, to ensure he never lost that secret world. He felt a deep sense of shared sorrow.