Gemotions

The crayon lines on the living room floor seemed to mock Amelia. Her niece, Lily, giggled, pointing at the flamboyant purple creature with three eyes. “That’s Flicker!” she declared. Amelia’s breath hitched. Flicker. She hadn’t thought of him in decades. He’d been her constant companion during a lonely childhood. Now, he was resurrected in Lily's art. A coldness settled in Amelia's stomach. She felt a strange pressure in her chest, a weight she couldn’t name.

Amelia found herself avoiding Lily's gaze, feigning interest in the television. Each playful drawing was a tiny, accusing finger. She knew the secret of Flicker. He was a piece of her, a part she'd buried deep. She hadn't been a good sister, or a good daughter.

She made Lily pancakes, but her hands shook, and the edges burned. The scent of burnt batter seemed to amplify the internal unease.