Gemotions

The aroma of freshly baked cookies filled the kitchen, chasing away the chill of the late afternoon. Aunt Carol hummed, pulling the tray from the oven, her face flushed with warmth and a soft smile playing on her lips. She arranged the golden-brown treats on a wire rack, her movements light and quick. Little Lily, her niece, had been drawing all day, and Carol couldn't wait to see the latest masterpiece. She’d promised to read her a story when the cookies were ready.

Lily bounced into the kitchen, her eyes sparkling. “Cookies!” she squealed, reaching for one. Carol chuckled, handing her a warm one. “Alright, alright, but only after we look at your drawing.” Lily grabbed a cookie, her small hands almost entirely covering it. She trotted to the table, and laid down the picture, her bright grin fixed on her aunt.

There he was again: Bartholomew. A lanky, purple-skinned figure with mismatched socks. Bartholomew, who had first appeared in Lily’s drawings a month ago. Bartholomew, who Carol, in her childhood, knew so very well. A wave of a feeling, light as dandelion seeds, filled her chest.