Gemotions

He watched the drawings of "Sparky" with an odd detachment, a hollowness inside him. The creature was all sharp angles and neon colours, nothing like the soft, warm friend he’d conjured in his youth. Yet, the name, the unwavering belief in Sparky's existence… it was all too familiar.

"He's very imaginative," his sister said, her voice filled with a pride he couldn’t share. He swallowed hard, a sudden dryness gripping his throat. He used to be imaginative. He used to believe in things. Now, everything felt muted, faded.

Later, alone, he opened a box in the attic. Old toys, dusty photographs. A single, crumpled drawing fell out – a childish scribble of a friendly, toothy dog named… Sparky.