Gemotions

She found herself unable to breathe properly. The gallery was filled with chattering people, but the only thing she could focus on was the drawing. Her niece, Maya, had included him – the ethereal, shimmering figure she used to call "Silas" – in a portrait alongside her. He hadn’t thought about Silas in decades. The memory of him, of their shared games and secrets, was buried deep.

Everywhere, smiles and laughter rang out, yet she felt a deep chill. It crept from her toes, up her legs, and settled in her stomach. She excused herself, muttering about needing some air, and slipped out of the crowded room.

The cool night air offered little relief. She stood beneath the awning, watching the rain run down the street, and felt the familiar sting in her eyes. It seemed everything was conspiring to bring her past crashing into her present.