Gemotions

The first thing he registered each morning was the pressure. The weight on his chest, a feeling of being constantly pressed down. He hated it. The second thing was the drawings. They were taped to the fridge, the walls, even the back of the toilet door. He, Ben, could hardly escape them.

He would rip them down and throw them away. But Sarah, his sister, always replaced them. She acted as if the drawings were a precious gift, a sign of her daughter’s specialness. He hated her sweetness, her eternal optimism. She didn't understand. She couldn't understand.