Gemotions

The crayon slipped, a jagged purple line slashing across the paper. Amelia slammed her fist onto the table, scattering the drawings her niece, Lily, had so proudly displayed. A cartoon figure, all floppy limbs and stitched-on features, stared back at her with unsettling familiarity. *Barnaby.* The name, a forgotten whisper from her own youth, clawed at her throat. She needed to *know* why that thing, that spectral echo of her past, was suddenly resurrected in her family's home.

Amelia snatched Lily’s artwork, crumpling the page with a vicious twist. The paper crinkled under her furious grip. "Where did you get this?" she demanded, her voice tight, a low growl barely masked. Lily, wide-eyed and trembling, pointed a tiny finger at the ceiling, then mumbled something about "Mr. Barnaby."

The absurdity of it all was almost unbearable. This childish fantasy, this ghost of a friend, she'd kept buried deep. This…this *intrusion* felt like a personal affront.