Gemotions

The old attic was stuffy and dimly lit. He had come here searching for something, he wasn't sure what. Old toys, maybe. Childhood memories, certainly.

He stumbled upon a box of old drawings. He pulled them out, the paper brittle and yellowed. Then he saw it: a familiar, smiling face, drawn with crayon and care. It was the same creature that now filled his young cousin's drawings: "Barnaby," a smiling bear.

A dull ache pulsed through his temples. It was an old story, a forgotten world, now resurrected in the hands of another. The attic suddenly felt colder, more desolate.